


Pretty Baby

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-04
Updated: 2001-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?
Relationships: Victor Mansfield/Mac Ramsey
Collections: TER/MA





	1. I: The Honey Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> The Caligula is a sex club created by Alliance where the Director was a founding member. The Royal York Hotel is on par with the Plaza in New York and Queen's Quay is a very ritzy waterfront district in Toronto with very pricey condominiums

**Part I  
The Honey Trap**

This trip sucked. 

Huffing a lock of wavy dark hair off his forehead, eighteen year old Mac Ramsey repeated the sentiment aloud as he looked out the window over the urban sprawl below. Over twenty four hours' travel from Hong Kong to Toronto and now he was cooped up in a hotel room—albeit a very plush hotel room as the Tangs traveled first class—with only his brother Michael for company. 

At least if he'd been sharing the room with Li Ann he could have come up with entertaining way to pass the time. Hell, if Michael was a little less tight assed he could have had a few suggestions that way too. 

"I cannot believe we're stuck in here. I mean c'mon, it's Canada, land of the mounties and all that, not like we could get into trouble out there." 

Michael glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, a faint expression of disgust washing over his handsome face. "You could get into trouble at a convention of nuns, Ramsey, and that's precisely why Father told us to stay put until he returns. He has no desire to have to bail you out of jail." Though unsaid, the word 'again' hung between them, increasing the tension in the room. 

"Hey, I'll bet under those habits, nuns really know how to party," Mac laughed. Pushing off the windowsill, he vanished into the bedroom he'd been assigned and began rummaging around in the closet for something suitable to change into. 

Something casual, but with style... Discarding the more formal clothes, Mac retrieved a pair of jeans and a white shirt from the spacious closet. Not what he usually wore, but then today he was going to be trying to blend into the crowds. Hell, who knew, maybe he'd find a lovely young lady interested in giving him a private tour. 

Humming to himself, the young thief slipped his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans after making sure that at least one of his lock picks was secure in the folds. Leaving the shirt untucked provided decent camouflage for the small bulge it made—it never paid to entice pickpockets you know. After running a touch of gel through his hair, tucking a pair of mirrored sunglasses into his shirt pocket, and stepping into a pair of athletic shoes, Mac felt he was ready to take on the city. 

"If Pop comes back, tell him I'm asleep," he called before stopping at the door and listening carefully to make sure none of the bodyguards were around. 

"I'm not covering for you. You leave, you're on your own," Michael warned him. "You fuck up and Father will leave you to rot here." 

"Like I'm gonna get caught," Mac laughed, easing open the door and peering both ways down the hall. "Have fun with the paper, bro. I'll fill you in on the details when I get back!" Before Michael could get in a parting shot, Mac was out the door and down the hall, trotting down the stairwell just in case any of the Tang employees were using the elevator. 

The noontime sun was near blinding and Mac slipped his sunglasses over his dark eyes, grinning as he surveyed the crowded streets around him. Hello Toronto. Mac Ramsey was here and it was time to have a little fun. 

* * *

"Mansfield, my office—Now!" Vic looked up from the latest case he was working on, underage male prostitutes in some of the more well hidden and more notorious bathhouses in town, and grimaced at his erstwhile partner, Dobrinsky. What now? Like being the rookie on the team wasn't bad enough. Like getting the lovely assignment of having to play a john looking for a good time with a pretty party boy wasn't bad enough. Like actually having to go through most of the motions leading up to actual sex wasn't bad enough. Now it looked like he was about to be put on the Captain's shit list. 

"Not your week, is it Ace?" Dobrinsky whispered as he passed the other man's desk on the way to the Captain's office. 

"Fuck you, Dobie," Vic snapped unhappily. 

"Don't call me that!" Dobrinsky shot back before continuing. "Besides—that's your assignment remember, Ace—to fuck the pretty boys?" Dobrinsky chortled as he watched Mansfield stalk over to the Captain's door, take a deep breath and knock. 

"Come in Victor," Captain Diana Rictor purred throatily. "Have a seat. So, how's my favorite new recruit liking his assignment?" Vic snorted and mumbled something graphic and unrepeatable. The Captain's elegant red eyebrows quirked, and a dangerous half smile spread over the overtly sexual features. The captain was a good looking woman and wasn't afraid to use her sexuality any more than she was afraid to use her considerable martial arts knowledge or the 7mm Glock in her desk drawer. But for some reason her charms hadn't worked on the handsome Detective Mansfield. Pity, it could have been fun. 

"So, you don't like playing with party boys, hmm? You won't have to any longer Victor. Dobrinsky will be taking over that case. I have a new one for you." A heavy manila folder hit the desk in front of the slightly worried detective. 

Opening the file he looked at the face that stared back up at him from a black and white glossy. Exotic first sprang to mind. Dark, slightly canted bedroom eyes, lips that made a mouth water, stubborn tilt to the chin, gorgeous dark hair that just begged to have fingers run though it. Flipping past the picture, Vic did a quick rundown of the rap sheet attached. Shit! Eighteen, goddamn—the kid was practically jailbait. 

"Meet Mac Ramsey. Adopted son of the Tang Godfather. Who is in Toronto. For what we have no idea and we have people in Asian Crimes working on it. Mr. Ramsey however, is fair game. Adventurous with a proclivity for thievery. If we can crack him we may have an in as to what Mr. Tang is doing—something the AC won't have thought of." The captain stood up and slinked around the desk, showing off the pinstriped suit that on anyone else would have just been a suit but on her should have been illegal. Black lace bras definitely weren't Mansfield's idea of proper office attire, but hey, whatever turned her crank. 

"I _want_ him Victor. I want him singing like a canary. Do what you have to to make him ours. I want this case Victor. I do not want those idiots in AC to break this case. Do what _ever_ it takes. Do I make myself clear?" Diana Rictor was a woman with ambition. That ambition included being the commissioner. If she could take the credit for bringing down Tang that spot was virtually hers. 

"Perfectly clear, Captain. Whatever it takes." Vic exited the office, file in hand and walked over to his desk. Grabbing the bathhouse case he walked over to Dobrinsky and plopped in front of the confused black man. "Try not to have _too_ much fun there, _Ace_ ," Vic grinned evilly before grabbing his ever present brown leather jacket and walking out the door. 

* * *

_You know,_ Mac sighed to himself as he studied the crowds of people streaming down the street around him, _for a big city, Toronto is damn boring._ Tourists, tourists and more tourists, most of them clutching tickets to that evening's performance of 'Phantom of the Opera' and acting as if they had attained the pinnacle of cultural nirvana. If there was one thing the young thief did not want to do during his visit, it was to spend his free time sitting through an over-blown musical with a bunch of gum-snapping idiots. 

"There has gotta be something better here to do then this crap," he muttered, flashing a grin at a girl approaching in the opposite direction. The blonde smiled back, then winked and handed him an electric pink flyer emblazoned with the name and address of a club of some kind. 

"Caligula... " What the hell, he'd seen it all in Hong Kong, nothing this city could throw at him would be a surprise. Taking note of the directions drawn on the pamphlet, Mac got his bearings, then headed north, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips and a new purpose fueling his stride. 

Mac found the club and bluffed his way past the sleek looking bouncer with little trouble at all. As a matter of fact, if he had thought about it more, he would have realized it was too easy getting in there. The décor met with his approval, as did the tight leather uniforms the staff was wearing. It was early, so the place was still somewhat quiet, but Mac had the feeling it would be wild come nightfall. 

Nightfall. Shit. The old man was going to kill him if he wasn't back before then but hell, Michael had probably ratted him out by now anyway. Might as well enjoy the freedom before the ax fell. 

Settling himself on a bar stool where he could watch most of the room, Mac ordered a beer, flipping out a bill to pay the buxom bartender who gave him a very visible once over as she served him. 

God, could these people be any more innocent? And could life get any better? 

* * *

Jackie Janzek turned away from the kid she'd just served and grinned. Ramsey was obviously out of place and he probably thought he'd pulled one over on everyone. Typical teenaged male—thinking with his lower brain not his upper. The kid was something to look at though—he was a heartbreaker, no doubt about it. Vic was one lucky bastard, pulling this assignment. 

The set up had been so easy—and a little scary. How Captain Rictor knew about the Caligula, let alone had enough pull to get her hired, convince them to let a non-member in _and_ use the place for a sting like this was not worth thinking about. Then again, the captain was not your ordinary run of the mill vice captain. She seemed to like her job just a little _too_ much. True, being part of the vice unit meant you got to see the dark side of the city, all the seedy little unknown places that housed the perverse, illegal and unmentionable. Jackie herself had spent way too much time playing an underaged prostitute, or a party girl, or what ever else appealed to the local nasties. In fact it had become so much a part of her personality that she actually talked like the little 'valley girl' slut she pretended to be, even off duty. 

Filling a glass of beer, she slipped out the side of the bar and took it over to a darkened corner. "Like, your little squeeze just walked in Vic. God, he's like so totally munchy. I'm gonna feed him one more straight beer then I'll start giving him that X Rictor told me to use. I've like seen this stuff work and man - the results are hot. He should be nice and receptive to a little company in about half an hour. You're gonna want to get closer when I start feeding it to him though, people in this place tend to eat little boys like him for lunch. Hell, half the deviants started drooling the minute he walked in," Jackie snorted derisively. 

"They're gonna wait till he's nice and happy before pouncing so you'd better be there first," she continued and turned to walk away. 

Vic caught her arm. "No—no drugs." 

"But, like Rictor said," Jackie whined. 

"No—I want him clean. And only two more then you cut him off. Don't worry Jacks," Vic smiled predatorily when he saw she was about to protest again, "he's not gonna say no. Believe me." 

Jackie looked at Vic again—really looked. Her fellow vice cop had his trademark brown leather jacket next to him but that was where the similarities to the guy she saw on a daily basis ended. He had on a black t-shirt, tight enough for her to see every muscle on his washboard stomach, and it also made the hoop through his right nipple easily visible. When the hell did Vic get his nipple pierced? In his left ear was a silver hoop and above it a diamond stud. He had two holes? Who the hell was this guy sitting here in... skin tight black leather pants with black leather biker boots. Jackie was suddenly hornier than she could remember being around the hunky detective, and that was pretty damn horny! 

"Wow! Vic you are like so killer in that outfit. If the baby swings that way he's gonna beg you to take his ass!" 

Victor just grinned, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I've done my research—he's got the inclination even if he's never acted on it. Don't worry Jacks, baby is in the bag. Now be a good little girl and give him the beer he's motioning for will ya?" 

* * *

"Complements, like, of the gentleman sitting over there," the bartender giggled, waving her hand in the direction of a darkened corner of the club as she slid another draft in front of Mac. 

As she leaned over, she flashed him a good shot down her cleavage and he raised his glass in a toast to her. "Sure it isn't from you? Maybe later you can show a guy who's new to town around?" 

She leaned farther over the bartop, the motion threatening to spill her breasts from her black leather bustier. "If you're still around when I get off work, like sure, might be fun." With a saucy wink, the blonde turned back to her work, leaving Mac to contemplate his beer and the anonymous patron who had purchased it. 

Well, free booze was free booze. Turning his attention back to the shadows, Mac inclined the glass toward the figure there, then downed half the brew, grimacing slightly at the acrid taste. Shit, couldn't these Canadians even make a decent beer? This stuff tasted almost as bad as American crap. 

Mac hooked his feet around the rungs of the stool he was sitting on and slugged back the rest of the beer. He leaned back against the marble counter, watching as his benefactor stood and walked in his direction. The man stepped from the darkness into the dim illumination near the bar and Mac's eyes widened in appreciation. 

Shit, the man was sex on two legs. The young thief's gaze centered on the fluid movements of the leather clad hips for a long moment then, as he tried to ignore the definite interest on his body's part, moved upward. It didn't offer any reprieve, especially since the way up revealed that the older man liked his shirts tight and his nipple pierced. Fuck. 

For the first time, Mac felt a twinge of nervousness and wondered if he should cut out of here now. A look in the stranger's emerald eyes decided it for Mac. He was staying. "Thanks for the beer, man," he said, smiling and casually downing the rest of the mug while giving the other man an all over look again. 

"You're welcome," came the rough silk reply of Victor Mansfield. He saw Jackie watching out the corner of his eye. Shit he hated being on display, but orders were orders and despite the squeaky clean image Vic knew he had at the station he also knew how to play the game. 

It had taken him along time to remake Victor Mansfield from a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, and a wild child to boot, to someone people thought of as responsible, upright, a little naïve and 'nice' guy. What his fellow cops didn't know would never hurt 'em. But for right now, Vic let the wild side out of its carefully chained cage and hoped Jackie would think that it was all just an act. 

"So tell me, what's a pretty little baby like you doing in the Caligula—or do you like playing the types of games people play here? You hardly look old enough to have developed these sorts of _vices_ but I could be wrong." 

"Baby?" Mac cocked an eyebrow at the older man, then snorted. "I may look young, but I haven't been that innocent in a hell of a long time, bud." Something inside him was trying to raise an alarm, but Mac's libido successfully bludgeoned it into silence so that he could continue the conversation. "As for what vices I have, I doubt there's anything in here I haven't seen in one form or another." 

The blonde had refilled his beer again and he gave her a smile as he picked up the frosted glass. The frothy head of foam left a mustache on his upper lip after he drank, one that Mac languidly licked away, watching the other man the whole time. "What about you? This place your regular hang out?" 

Vic shuddered, his eyes turned smoky jade and became half lidded as the heat spiked. Taking a healthy swig of his own glass of brew, which Jackie had just given him, he hardly noticed the slightly bitter and faintly herbal aftertaste. He was too busy trying to control the lust that just sizzled through his brain. The baby was eye candy all right, and he knew it. 

"Let's just say that there's no floor I'm not allowed access to, and leave it at that," he replied softly. At that moment another vice cop sidled up to Vic, this one looking like a fuckable little boy toy. "Found some one new to play with Master Victor?" he breathed before pouting prettily. "Guess I'd better go back to my floor and leave you to it," with a caress of Vic's broad shoulders he was gone. 

Mac shifted on his stool as the fit of his jeans tightened more. If this got any worse, he was going to be able to count his pulse beats in the throbbing in his groin. Hoping it would clear his head, or at least bank the urges that were crawling through his brain, the thief downed the rest of his beer and watched a third man approach them—apparently to be brushed off by his companion. He felt the sudden urge to grab the party boy's wrist and twist it when he touched—what _was_ this man's name? 

Vic shot a glance at Jackie who cocked her head to one side. Following the motion Vic's eyes widened imperceptibly. Shit! Rictor. Then the taste of his beer finally registered and he looked from it to Jackie, his eyes menacing. 'Rictor' she mouthed then turned away. Sonofabitch, the harpy had spiked his drink and if his was spiked.... Turning to look at his companion Victor noticed the flushed skin, dilated pupils and unconscious gyrations of the baby's body. Fuck. Screw the back room, chances were Rictor had it rigged to tape, sicko bitch that she was. 

"So tell me pretty baby, you here to decorate the bar, or are you here to find someone to play with?" Vic growled in Mac's ear, his voice darkened sin. 

Being called 'pretty baby' should have bothered Mac a lot, but somehow it didn't. Of course, that may have had something to do with his increasing interest in the dangerous looking man beside him and the way he filled out his shirt... and his pants... and... 

Damn. 

* * *

"Was hoping to find someone to dance with," Mac smiled, studying the older man through half-lidded eyes. "Would much rather do that then hold up the bar." He took another drink, too distracted by the handsome lines of the other man's face to notice that the foam had marked his lip again. "And need to know your name before I even think of playing with you." 

Vic didn't answer for a moment, just stared at the young man in front of him. He knew there was a drug working it's way through not only the kid's system but his as well. He knew Rictor was watching, damn the bitch, not to mention Jackie. He _knew_ he should haul the kid into a cab and they should both run for their lives. But none of his knowledge could prevent him from leaning in close and licking that damnable line of foam from the sweet little baby's lips. 

Whoa... Mac's eyes widened when the other man leaned in, then opened even more at the rough velvet swipe of his tongue over his lip. Parting his lips to say something proved to be a mistake—or a blessing depending on which brain was talking—as the older man swooped in for the kill. Suddenly, Mac's mouth was full of the other man's tongue and damn if he didn't taste good! Groaning against the mobile lips that covered his, Ramsey gave into whatever wild hair had claimed him and succumbed to the kiss, grabbing two handfuls of his companion's soft leather jacket to hold him in place. 

Groaning softly when the taste of beer merged with the taste of Mac, Vic gave in to the inevitable and took the younger man's mouth in a ravishing kiss that left them both breathless and Victor so hard he was threatening any future generations of Mansfield's due to lack of blood flow. "Victor," he purred, "My name is Victor. And you are?... Apart from mine that is." 

It took the thief a moment to get his bearings once they broke apart and the dim lighting of the club seemed brighter for some reason. What was he saying? Oh, name and... The low-voiced addendum to the simple question sent a tremor racing through Mac's body and he slid half off the stool, needing to be closer to the source of that voice. 

"Mac," he whispered, gazing up at Victor in unadulterated lust as a hand slid over the t-shirt to stroke the hard muscles beneath it. "Glad ta meet ya, Victor." 

"Keep it up baby and I'll have you over a table so fast you're head'll spin," Vic threatened as he captured the young man's hand in his. He knew what he was supposed to do next—take the kid upstairs and compromise him. But he couldn't. He liked the kid, brash little piece of work that he was. Vic closed his eyes, took a deep breath,... and kissed his career away. 

"Come on Mac, it's time to go," he whispered softly. "I don't want to share you - ever." 

The younger man flowed to his feet, using the motion to twist his hand out of Victor's grasp and rest it on his chest once again. As his thumb outlined the smooth metal circle that was broken by the hard nub of Vic's nipple, Mac tilted his head the small bit needed to make their eyes meet. The thought of Vic pushing him over to a table and making good on his threat made him arch his body into the other man's leather clad hips. 

"They have music where we're going?" he asked, nuzzling his face into Victor's neck, not caring in the least where that was, just that it got him naked and next to the older man. 

"Yeah," Vic responded once he got the involuntary shudder under control. Damn that stuff Janzek slipped him, it was making him harder than granite and these damnable leather pants weren't helping much. It was so fucking hot in here and Ramsey was rubbing against him like a cat in heat and god dammit all he wanted to do was sink himself so deep in his pretty baby that he'd never find his way out again. 

"There's gonna be music baby." _The music of you screaming my name as I bury myself deep, you moaning and begging for more and more and me giving it to you._ Vic thought to himself as he grabbed hold of the tormenting hand to both stop Mac's movements and to give him something to hold on to as he quickly led the young man outside before any of his 'back-up' could stop him. 

Hailing a cab and bundling his clinging, writhing, moaning playmate in the back, Victor gave the cabby an address in Queen's Quay. It was a condo that belonged to his family—well him. His parents had bought it for him as a peace offering but he'd never lived in it. It would suit his purposes now though—some place Rictor didn't know about, some place she couldn't find out about and get her rocks off spying on them. Some place where he could do all the dark, dangerous things floating through his brain. 

The trip was made in a haze of lust with Vic fighting the urge to take the kid right there in the back seat. Due to Mac's young looks Vic was loathe to even touch him the entire ride, not that the cabby hadn't seen it all he was sure. All it did was increase the ache in the cop though. He needed, fuck how he needed. 

Paying the cabby off, Vic practically dragged Mac past the night manager and into one of the elevators. The doors had barely slid shut when he turned on the younger man with a predatory pounce. "Pretty little baby," he growled softly before crowding the young man into the elevator wall and pressed himself firmly into the writhing young body beneath his. " _My_ pretty little baby," and then he devoured those oh so fuckable lips. 

Denied the contact he'd been craving so desperately for the course of the taxi ride to wherever the hell they were going, Mac was in an almost frantic state by the time they exited the car. Barely audible moans slipped past his lips as he struggled to grind himself into Victor's side, past the point of caring about anything except for the lust raging within him. 

The moment the elevator doors closed, Mac started to move toward the older man, but found himself pinned against the wood and mirrored wall, feeling the longed for pressure of Vic's length grinding into him. Somewhere deep in his mind, a part of him grumbled in opposition to the name, but the rest of him didn't care, being too occupied with trying to inhale as much of the other man as possible. 

His hands clutched at Vic's shirt, shoving at his jacket, and delving under the tight fabric of his shirt in an attempt to feel the bare heat of his skin. That accomplished, Mac's finger's spasmed, digging into Vic's back, pulling him closer. He barely noticed when the elevator stopped moving or when the car brightened as the doors opened into an expensively decorated hallway. "No... " he moaned as Vic pulled away, grabbing hold tighter to keep from losing any of the amazing feel of the other man's body against him. 

"Shh, sweetheart. Gotta get you inside—don't want anyone else seeing your luscious body but me. Don't like sharing most times but now—think I'd kill anyone who came near you," Vic husked possessively as he pulled the younger man along behind him, intent on getting inside the condo, then inside of Mac. 

Fumbling the keycard out of his wallet, Vic slid it through the electronic lock then disarmed the alarm system before pulling the wild eyed young man inside. It was almost impossible to believe this writhing, clinging sex kitten was only eighteen—Mac seemed to have more knowledge and skill than most of the seasoned whores he busted in Vice—not that he was complaining. What he was, was so god damned aroused that if he didn't find himself buried deep inside this gorgeous, heart stopping kid in the next few minutes he was going to go out of his fucking mind. 

"Bedroom, baby, this way," he managed to get out between sucking kisses and groping hands. Clothes were stripped off as they went and dropped or thrown or tossed wherever they may land. The door was practically yanked off it's hinges in haste to get inside and Victor managed to get the clinging kitten to lay on the bed by himself long enough for a quick trip to the bathroom's medicine cabinet. Good thing he kept this place stocked with all sorts of goodies for when his relatives and friends came to visit. 

Being in bed alone was not tops in Mac's mind at his time, no matter what the reason, no matter how short a time Victor had promised it would be for. Unable to touch the other man, the thief's hands filled themselves with his own body, stroking and petting until he was on the edge of orgasm. God it felt so good, the only thing holding him back from giving into the need consuming him was the knowledge that it would be so much better with Victor. 

"Get in here," Mac wailed, twisting on the bed so that he could hump the soft comforter, his hands fisting in the pillows as he tried to get some kind of control over himself. What was wrong with him? He'd never wanted anything, anyone this badly but God did he now. A small noise broke through Mac's mindless moaning and he looked back over his shoulder to see Victor standing in the doorway to the bathroom. The light behind him outlined the older man's body in a bright nimbus and Mac knew he'd never seen anything as gorgeous in his life. 

"Fuck me, please... " he whispered, the words almost lost in the shuddering gasps for breath that rocked his body. "Now... " 

"Fuck," Vic breathed softly, watching the younger man rubbing against the bed. He'd never seen anything so erotic in his life. It was almost enough to make him come right there. And then Mac spoke—whispered for Vic to fuck him. It was a jolt of electricity right to his groin. 

"Jesus, oh shit," Vic groaned softly. He was too hot, too hard. If he went after the kid in his present state not only would they break a few bedsprings, chances are he'd hurt Mac too and the last thing he wanted was to hurt his baby. Squirting some of the lotion he'd found on his hand he wrapped the now slick fingers around his cock and began to stroke himself hard and fast. He needed to take the edge off. He also needed to see Mac play with himself—fuck that was wild watching the kid stroke and play with his sleek body. 

"Touch yourself for me Mac," he husked in the silent room. Only the little whimpers and moans from the teen's lush mouth broke the silence, so far above the streets of Toronto were they. "Show me what you like baby—show me what feels good." 

Mac's first inclination was to argue the point. He didn't want to jerk off, he wanted to be fucked and he wanted it right now! Flipping over onto his back once again, he gathered himself to launch at Vic, then stopped dead, whiskey dark eyes riveted on the quick movements of the older man's hand on his erection. 

A stream of Chinese curses filled the room as it hit Mac that Vic wasn't fooling around—for now anyway this was all they were going to do. The curses segued to muttered death threats even as he grasped his painfully hard cock, his hand slipping easily into the same rhythm the older man was using on himself. That extra stimulus was all it took and Mac came with a long howl, his back arching off the bed as his seed spurted over his stomach and hand. His eyelids drooped closed with the overwhelming intensity of his climax, then shot open again, still lust glazed, but also a little defiant as he stared at Victor who was now leaning over him. 

Victor moved steadily forward as he watched the young man touch himself. By the time Mac came, Vic was standing next to where the teenager lay. Placing a knee on the bed for balance, Vic bent over Mac and with a wicked glint in his eye, ran his tongue along the younger man's sticky stomach lapping up Ramsey's seed. He tasted like musk and ocean and sex and it was enough to send Vic shooting his own orgasm over the bed and the thief. 

"You taste like sex—and now you'll taste like sex and like me," Vic husked as he settled on the bed next to Mac, taking his mouth in a lush kiss. "That was gorgeous baby. Hot and beautiful—like something out of my fantasies. But such language—don't know what you were saying, but I'm sure my naughty little baby was using bad language. Do it again and I may have to—discipline—you," Vic mock growled as he rolled on top of Mac and pressed the younger man into the bed and himself into the younger man, their now slick bodies sliding against one another. 

Mac continued speaking Chinese, his mind short-circuited by thunderous climax he'd just had as well as the driving need that still possessed him. His orgasm had barely caused his erection to flag and as he rasped out hot, pornographic phrases, he squirmed, whimpering in delight as Vic's penis moved against his. 

The bewildered look in the older man's eyes brought Mac back to himself enough that he became aware that Victor had no idea what he was saying and, with a mental lurch, he switched back to English again. "Discipline doesn't work on me, just ask my family." Laughing a bit at that, Mac pulled Vic down so that he could kiss him again, initiating an aggressive attack on the other man's mouth that was designed with one result in mind—to get what he wanted and now. 

"Oh I don't know—I'm sure I could come up with _some_ way to keep you in line," Vic purred softly, panting from the thief's attack on his mouth. "In fact, I know I can." 

Vic pressed his considerably heavier frame into that of the younger man and with one hand pinned Mac's hands above his head. "Mmm, handcuffs would have been a nice touch but I forgot my toys in my other jacket," Vic murmured softly as he watched the younger man's eyes darken to obsidian and glitter in the half light cast throughout the room by the lights of the city. "You are so gorgeous. A Botecelli or Michaelangelo's David brought to life. A living breathing work of art," Vic sighed as he trailed his free hand along the teen's side and across the slender chest where a smattering of chest hair was beginning to thicken. 

Handcuffs. As if he couldn't be out of those in ten seconds flat. Even as the rest of what the older man was saying registered on his lust-hazed mind, Mac found himself thinking that maybe he wouldn't mind staying in them a little longer—if only to see what it would get him. 

"I could play with you all night," Vic commented softly as he began to tweak and tease first one, then the other of Mac's tiny nipples. Bending his head, Vic took one in his mouth and began to suckle and nibble lightly—moaning slightly at the delicious taste of the kid's skin. His free hand continued to tease and taunt the remaining nipple and the whimpers and curses interspersed with unknown Chinese phrases coming from above him were music to his ears. 

Vic knew that unless some miracle happened this was a one shot deal—that Mac would either try to kill him or try to bolt when he woke up in the morning and realized that he'd been drugged, even if Vic had ordered that it not be done. Then he'd have to face the queen bitch herself. So tonight he was going to drown himself in this gorgeous, erotic, exotic young man who for some reason made his heart beat just a little faster than normal. 

Victor Mansfield, no doubt soon to be ex-cop, was going to cram a lifetime's worth of loving into one night—no rules, nothing held back, every want, need, and fantasy brought to life. He was going to feast himself on the delight that was Mac Ramsey and hope to God he not only survived the fall out but would be able to pick up the pieces of his life afterwards, after he'd tasted paradise and lost it. 

Twisting and turning to follow the hand that was petting him, Mac managed to slide down just enough to latch on to Vic's neck, raising a dark purple mark with the force of his attentions. "Don't wanna play," he muttered, squirming enough to get a hand between them to grasp and tug the silver ring threaded through the older man's nipple. "Want you, wanna feel good." 

The last dissolved into an unintelligible garble as Mac used all his agility to move lower without bucking Victor off. His questing lips found, then closed over the ring, his teeth pulling it outward so that his tongue could flick over the tight bud of crinkled velvet flesh. The one problem with this position, the teen soon realized, was that it left the lower half of his body uncovered and he growled in frustration—not wanting to let go of his prize, but aching for something to thrust against. 

Vic's head shot back as an involuntary cry escaped. Fuck, this kid was good! Going straight for a major erogenous zone and manipulating it for all he was worth. His nipples had always been sensitive but ever since he'd gotten the left one pierced, whenever it was played with, it sent him through the roof. At this rate he was gonna come again before he even got close to his baby. 

"Enough baby, you do this much longer and the party's gonna be over for a little while," Vic groaned softly even as he pulled Mac's mouth off of him and the teen back up to where they were mouth to mouth—but not for long. Vic had plans. "And just so you know—I'm gonna play with you all night long baby. I'm gonna feast on your body—take you every way possible, then I'm gonna do it again. You're about to be ridden harder than you've ever dreamed of. I promise." 

Take him every way possible... God that was what he needed. To feel this, remember it every time he moved tomorrow. Mac may not have understood why he wanted this possession so much when he had spent almost a year on the street fighting to keep that one part of him safe, but he did. Every way, any way, the mechanics didn't matter, getting Victor inside of him did. 

With that Vic was moving, laving down the elegant column of neck, nibbling on each earlobe before sucking it into his mouth, tracing the jugular vein on each side of Mac's neck with his tongue. Collarbones were traced lovingly and the line between the younger man's ribs explored and discovered, which led of course to Vic tracing each rib with first fingers then tongue. Tiny bronze disks barely concealed by the dusting of hair on the young man's chest were manipulated deftly with fingers, tongue and teeth. And all the while Vic reveled in the moans and curses and the slipping from Chinese to English and back. It was nice to know he hadn't lost his touch. 

"Need... Oh god, please Vic, do it," Mac moaned, his voice near cracking with the strain. The pleasure/pain of the older man's teasing touches had him on the knife's edge again and Mac didn't know if he could ride it any longer without losing his mind. His dark eyes glittering with intent, the thief twisted, wrapping his legs around Vic's waist, offering himself in the most blatant way he knew. 

"Now." Mac timed the husked out word to the tightening of his fingers in Victor's dark hair, pulling his voracious mouth from his skin. Mac found himself mesmerized by the older man's forest dark gaze and his fast paced breathing rasped in his chest. "Make me yours." 

Vic drew away from the younger man, so that he wasn't touching the lush body beneath him at all. "Roll over on your stomach, pretty baby," the cop asked softly and smiled at the immediate response of his young lover. 

"So pretty," Vic crooned, tracing a finger down a perfect length of spine to the tiny dimple where perfect globes of ass met with an equally perfect back. Vic could hear Mac moaning, see him writhing, but this first time—he wanted the younger man loose and begging. He wanted this first time to be one the younger man never forgot despite how it came about. He wanted the young thief's brain to short circuit on pleasure. 

Crawling up and over the younger man so that Mac's hips were pinned to the bed lightly, Victor began to kiss and nibble at the exposed nape of the teen's neck, making sure to cover every inch of skin. He worked his way down sleekly muscled shoulders, and felt the subtle tension in them. The kid obviously was in great shape and the muscle tone was fantastic so Vic had a feeling that even he would find it a challenge to come up against the young man. 

Working his way lower, Victor nipped then laved each individual vertebrae down the younger man's spine and spent an inordinate amount of time tasting the tiny dimple before bathing each lush cheek with his tongue and giving the left one a definite roseate reminder of Victor. 

Finally unstraddling the younger man, Victor guided the moaning and cursing younger man to his knees and maneuvered his legs slightly apart. Making sure Mac was resting on his elbows and his face was supported, Victor knelt between the younger man's legs and spread Mac's pert cheeks apart, revealing the tiny rosy pucker in between them. 

* * *

Leaning in close, Victor ran his tongue delicately down the crevice and smiled wickedly at the yelp and tensing of the younger man's entire body then the subtle relaxation. "You taste sweet even here, pretty baby," he husked before diving in for another taste. 

Victor began to rim the younger man with a dexterous tongue, teasing and seducing the younger man into total relaxation. Victor's tongue pushed slowly inwards past the tightly clenched muscle and began to gently tongue fuck the teen. Gripping Mac with one hand, Victor nimbly managed to put on the condom he'd brought with him as well as slick it with the aloe vera lotion he'd found in the medicine cabinet. Then, with the slick hand, he reached around and set about bringing the younger man to his second orgasm of the night. 

Mac cradled his face in his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp and tugging at his hair to try and find some kind of refuge from his overloaded nerve centers. He couldn't talk, could barely breathe, could only ride the waves of pleasure crashing over him at each helpless thrust of his hips back against Victor's agile tongue and forward into his firm, slick grip. 

Harsh gasps for breath interspersed with throaty whimpers echoed in Mac's ears and he pushed back harder against the wet, limber invader, screaming silently as he rode the cusp of completion, wanting more but unable to hold back against the intensity of the older man's skills. 

"God!" The thief's head snapped up, his back bowed and his whole body tightened as if seeking something, then he screamed, hips thrashing wildly as he came again, sending gouts of liquid over the sheets beneath him. 

Vic smiled almost ferally at his lover's intense orgasm. He may hate the fact that Jacks had slipped both Mac and himself that aphrodisiac but he couldn't find fault with the results. The tiny whimpers his teenaged lover emitted acted as a goad to his senses, spurring him on. He needed to be in Mac so bad he hurt. 

Slicking a finger in the lotion, Victor gently worked it past the now relaxed ring of muscle guarding the young man's anus. He slowly pushed inwards, then waited out the contracting muscles until they were loosened once more. Gently rotating his finger he allowed Mac to get used to his presence. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his young lover. Ever. 

When Victor was sure that Mac was used to one finger, he removed it slowly and slicked up two fingers, repeating the process. Victor repeated the whole procedure with a third finger, all the while gritting his teeth as his own arousal spiked uncontrollably, but he refused to give in to the lust. 

Only when he was sure that Mac was fully loosened and ready to take him did Victor gently guide the head of his aching erection into the younger man's anus, sliding it in millimeter by millimeter, watching carefully for any sign of tensing or pain in his young lover. It was only when he was completely sheathed in Mac's tight heat that Vic began to breath again. Bending he placed tiny biting kisses on the nape of the teen's neck and shoulders. "Talk to me pretty baby, tell me how it feels," Vic pleaded quietly. "Tell me you're okay." 

_How can I talk when I can't even think?_ Mac asked himself, even as he pushed backward instinctively, wanting, needing, more of the delicious fullness that was burning through him. It hurt, but not unbearably, and certainly not enough to do anything that would cause Victor to stop. As a matter of fact, now that he was getting used to it, it actually felt... 

"Good. Hard. Full." Those few syllables were all Mac could manage to say, and he punctuated each with a sharp twist of his hips, trying to goad Vic into moving once again. "Need more," he finally gasped out, pushing up on his hands and twisting enough to stare back at the older man. The sight of Victor leaning over him, emerald eyes near closed with the effort of holding himself in check, caused the thief to suck in a breath. "Let go," he whispered, rocking back against his lover's body, feeling the hard presence within him shift and pulse. 

"Fuck," Vic groaned as he felt Mac began to rock against him "Baby, you are so fucking hot—god, you are unbelievable." Vic bit down hard to prevent the animal growls welling up in his throat from escaping even as he began to slowly rock back and forth. Being in Mac was like being squeezed by a hot silk glove. It was better than the best blowjob or handjob Vic could imagine. It was intense, outrageous, lush and it ruined the cop for life. 

"Baby, sweet baby, _my_ baby," Vic moaned out mindlessly as his hips began to pump faster and faster. Christ, it was un-fucking-believable. The vice cop lost himself in the rhythm of thrust and retreat, his hips beating out a staccato of slapping flesh to blend with the groans and growls and moans that he and Mac were making. 

Unhooking one hand from the younger man's hip, he reached and found a burgeoning erection. The glories of a youthful body, especially one at it's sexual peak. Pumping Mac in time to his pounding motions, "Come for me baby, come," Vic chanted even as he felt his balls draw close to his body, his own orgasm racing along over sensitized nerve endings. So close, so fucking close... 

No way. There was no way he could react again, even with the fire racing through his blood, not even with the unfamiliar yet longed for feel of the other man sinking home within him, the slight shift as Victor changed his position slightly then... 

"Jesus!" The word was ripped from the thief's throat as Vic's cock raked across his prostate, turning his body into a twitching, writhing mass of flesh concerned only with physical gratification. "Yeah, there, there," Mac whimpered, bucking back fiercely, wanting a repetition of that mind-blowing sensation. It hit again and Mac shouted the older man's name, the jerky movements of his hips driving his cock into and out of Vic's fist as the first tremors of his climax overcame him. 

"Mac!" Vic managed to wail as his cock was suddenly clamped down in a velvet vise. Jesus, he'd never imagined it could feel this good—it had _never_ felt this good before. It was like every single inch of his cock was being milked millimeter by millimeter, all the way up and down. 

"Fuck, baby, oh God!" Vic couldn't stand it, it was so fucking hot. His hips began to slam harder and harder into the young man's, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh reverberating throughout the room keeping tempo with the forced out grunts of the older man's passion. Vic was now beyond rational thought, only caring about driving himself to intense and physical gratification. 

Soon he couldn't stand it anymore and with an animal roar he came hard and fast, filling his lover with his seed even as his whole body went weak with exhaustion. Rolling to the side so as not to flatten Mac, he quickly removed his condom and tossed it, before cuddling the teen to his chest. "Mac—you... No one, _no one, baby_ has ever done that to me before. Or ever will again. Believe it Mac," Vic begged softly, raining kisses on his lover, hoping, wishing and praying to what ever gods may be listening, that Mac Ramsey would forgive him his deceptive words and believe the truth that was in his heart. 

Wrung out and exhausted from their wild exertions and the beers he had consumed, all Mac could do was mumble something that not even he understood as Victor maneuvered them around to his liking. He was beat, whipped, but felt better then he ever had in his life and had no desire to move from his comfortable pillow now or any time in the for-seeable future. 

"Feel good," he sighed, rubbing his face against Vic's shoulder and neck, cuddling closer as he slung an arm around the older man's waist and a leg over his thighs. "Gonna sleep now, 'kay?" Even before Vic could answer, Mac's body went limp as he as much passed out as went to sleep. 

"You sleep, baby," Vic smiled softly into the dark silk covered head under his chin. "And yeah, you do feel good—too good. She's not going to get you baby, I promise. Don't care if I have to lie or even turn in my badge. She's not going to touch you. No way I'm letting that piece of poison near you. Ever," he swore fervently, kissing the young man's shoulder. 

Vic truly didn't care if he lost his badge—actually he figured he'd get reamed out royally, then made to do shit work for the rest of his career in Vice anyway. With someone like Rictor in charge, maybe it was time to get out of that department. Maybe he could get transferred to homicide or major crimes or something—anything that didn't have the bitch as his boss. Mulling over his options, and his new resolution in life, Victor slowly faded away. 

* * *

Morning came with a vengeance—and her name was Diana Rictor. 

The pounding on the door rivaled the pounding in Vic's head as he stumbled across the living room to throw the condo door open. 

"What the fuck? Captain?" Vic managed to groan out. The outfit of the day was quite military like—almost exactly like a beat cop's uniform. Except it was made out of black PVC and was cut a little too low and beat cops carried nightsticks not riding crops. 

"Good morning my little party boy? So—where pray tell is Mr. Ramsey? He has an appointment downtown—in my office," she grinned as she sauntered in. "Nice place, by the way." 

"He's not here," Vic ground out, already knowing his career was basically shot - she was gonna be pissed. 

"What do you mean he's not _here_ Detective Mansfield? Just where pray tell is he?" 

"I dunno—he got cold feet, jumped out the cab at an intersection and I lost him. Since the cabby dropped me off here and you drugged me I decided to stay here and sleep it off. Not like I'd be much good with that crap in my body anyway. Got a problem with that?" Vic snarled. 

"My office in one hour Mansfield—then we'll _talk_ ," Rictor shot back, her eyes flashing hellfire and the devil's retribution. Yup—his career was screwed. She slammed out of the condo, taking the demons of hell with her. 

Quickly walking back to the bedroom, Vic thanked whatever god watched out for him that she was too pissed to search the place. "Mac, baby... we gotta... MAC?" 

* * *

All Mac knew was that one minute he was curled up comfortably next to a very warm body and the next he was sitting up with the pounding on the door raising a sympathetic ache in his head. His next movement proved that last night had definitely left it's impression on him in more ways then one. 

Grimacing at the feel of dried semen on his skin, Mac slid out of the bed and padded toward the doorway, intent on finding Victor and the shower—and then hopefully enjoying both of them before he had to go. Man he was going to be so dead, but it had been worth it, god had it been worth it. 

Poised to make an entrance into the outer room, Mac's grin faded when he heard the door open and Victor's groaned out question. _Captain? Is he in the army or something?_ The answer the sultry voiced woman gave set off all the thief's warning bells. This was not good, not good at all. 

As Mac made a mad scramble for his clothes, he heard the words that slammed the lid on coffin containing any hope that he might have had for a misunderstanding. _Detective Mansfield! Fuck, fuck, fuck. A cop!_ Now it all made sense and he cursed himself for being so gullible. A setup, the whole damn thing had been an opportunity for someone to go after the family. Well, they weren't going to get in through him that easily. 

Yanking his jeans on, Mac glanced around, looking for his shirt, but didn't see it. What he did see was the cop's t shirt and jacket. Hell, anything would do at this point. Viciously thrusting away the way the scent that lingered on the brown leather and black cotton caused his body to want to react, the young man grabbed his sneakers, knotted the laces together and slung them around his neck. 

A quick check of the balcony provided the escape route he needed and, with an agile drop to the ledge below and an expert jimmying of the lock on the sliding glass doors, Mac vanished. 

Transportation back to the hotel wasn't a problem, there was a subway stop nearby and even without quite knowing where he was, Mac was able to trace a route back to the Royal York. Still cursing himself for being ten thousand kinds of a fool and knowing that he deserved everything Father was going to do to him, Mac jogged up to the entrance, then ducked inside. 

Luckily, no one he recognized was in the lobby, or the hallway once he got off the elevator and Mac was congratulating himself on a clean entrance when the door to Li Ann's room cracked open and she hissed his name. 

"What's wrong?" It had to be something serious, her skin was pale and her eyes red-rimmed. Li Ann never cried. _Never._

After casting a nervous glance toward both ends of the hall, Li Ann pulled Mac into the room, easing the door shut behind him. "You need to get out of here," she whispered, the slightest tremor entering her voice. 

Mac frowned, ducking his head to try and get a better view of his foster sister's expression. "Pop that mad at me?" It was a feeble joke at best, but then considering everything that had happened in the last 24 hours it was an admirable effort. 

"Father is dead. He... Last night when he was coming back, there was an accident... " Fresh tears flowed, obscuring Li Anne's dark eyes and she blindly thrust a heavy backpack into Mac's numb hands. 

"Michael says it's because he was out looking for you. He's going to kill you if he sees you, Mac. Please. I can't lose you too." 

"But—but—" The young thief's headache intensified and he clutched at the nylon webbing of the pack as if it could be used to bind the pieces of his life back together. 

"Ramsey!" Michael's bellow echoed with the banging of the door against the wall as it flew open. "You are a dead man!" 

"Whoa, whoa, Michael. I don't know what you think, but I didn't do anything." The psychotic haze that covered Michael's gaze had Mac edging away from the heavier teen. He'd seen that look before, and the outcome had never been pleasant for those it was directed at. 

For a brief second, Mac actually contemplated letting Michael get his hands on him. If what he said was true, his death was the least he owed the family. But then he'd never get retribution from those who set this whole fiasco in motion and that was what he wanted most of all. 

Screaming vicious epithets, Michael lunged for Mac, swinging the knife in his hand with deadly force. The younger man dove out of the way at the last second, gasping as the extent of the last night's activities made themselves known again. That slight delay allowed Michael's knife to find a bit of purchase in the leather jacket Mac wore, but it gave after a moment's resistance. 

With one fleeting look that begged for forgiveness, Mac was out the door, racing down the hall past the startled Tang enforcers who took up the chase at Michael's screamed out orders. When Mac finally lost them, he was deep in one of the seedier areas of Toronto with no idea where he was and no hint as to what he should do next. 

The thief slid into a booth at a run down diner and painfully released the deathgrip he had on the backpack. Whatever was in it, it had to be useful if Li Ann put it in there. After nodding to the waitress's query regarding coffee, Mac lowered his face into his hands, feeling the tremors that had threatened to overtake him all day gain control. 

This trip sucked. 

* * *

[email removed] and Rina [email removed]   
Pairing: Vic/Mac (Once a Thief)   
Series: Pretty Baby   
Rating: NC-17   
Website: <http://thesleepydragon.com/>   
Summary: AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!   
Authors' Notes: The Caligula is a sex club created by Alliance where the Director was a founding member. The Royal York Hotel is on par with the Plaza in New York and Queen's Quay is a very ritzy waterfront district in Toronto with very pricey condominiums   
---


	2. II: Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part II  
Bittersweet**

Cursing the cold, Mac Ramsey hunched his shoulders and flipped the collar of his jacket up, trying to keep the frozen sleet from coming into contact with the bare skin of his neck. Damn unseasonable weather, who could believe that a week ago it had been masquerading as summer now... Now the temperature had dipped past the freezing mark, sending most sane people home to their warm homes and cozy beds. 

But then, people who knew Mac nowadays weren't quite sure if he was sane or not. 

That aside, the teenage thief wouldn't normally be out on a night like this except for the fact that the damn police had managed to track down the warehouse he and the rest of the gang had been using as a clearing depot and a place to crash and were even now sifting through the junk that had been left there when everyone cleared out. 

So, it was back on the street. All in all not a very appealing prospect, especially on a night like this. He had money, that wasn't the issue. The problem was that any decent hotel would have clerks who asked questions and the prospect of crashing at one of the low end fleabags just didn't do much, if anything, for him. 

The wind gusted again, and Mac pulled the heavy brown leather tighter around his torso, mulling over his options. A muted click accompanied this act as he tapped the silver barbell that pierced his tongue against his upper teeth, a habit he'd fallen into since getting the piercing several months before. Waking up feeling as if his tongue was going to swell out of his mouth was _not_ an experience Mac wanted to relive, but once it had healed, he'd found it to be entertaining if nothing else and, as it had been an initiation rite, it had been unavoidable. 

The past six months hadn't been easy, even with the cache Li Ann had left him, and the Mac Ramsey who sat astride the gleaming black Ducati motorcycle was a far cry from the worldly yet still innocent teen who had left his hotel room looking for adventure. Gone were the fashionable clothes, the carefully styled hair, and the laid back attitude. Mac now wore whatever was handy, generally denims and flannels, his hair curled over his forehead and ears, hiding the three silver hoops dangling from his right lobe, and his attitude could best be described as suicidal. 

In one night he'd lost everything that made up his life, and the one he had been scrambling to build now revolved around one thing—revenge. A passing thought made Mac grin, and he kick-started the motorcycle, knowing exactly where he was going. 

Traffic was light, and he made it out to Queen's Quay in under fifteen minutes even if he was a good deal colder and wetter when he arrived then when he had started the journey. Rolling the bike into the underground parking garage, the thief wasted no time in bypassing the elevator security and sliding inside, standing purposefully away from the walls. 

A shudder that had nothing to do with the damp and chill that clung to him passed through the Mac's tall, rangy body and he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, not on the flashes of memory that kept threatening to overtake him. Most of that night was a blur, but Mac vividly remembered being pushed against the side of this compartment and kissed until his knees gave out. 

"Stop it," he growled to himself, angered because of the feelings of arousal that threatened to claim him even now, this long after the event. "Fucker was a cop trying to make a bust who just decided to get a little extra in. Well, now he can give me back some." 

Sporadic surveillance of the condo as well as clandestine record checks had let Mac know that Vic the vice cop didn't live at this address full time, in fact that he rarely, if ever, frequented this area. That was fine with Mac, the last thing he wanted to do was to run into Victor Mansfield, but if he did... The elevator ground to a halt and the thief indulged himself in a brief fantasy of kicking the older man's ass from one side of his apartment to the other—and then off the balcony. 

* * *

Vic had no idea why he was here. Fuck, he'd been ready to sell this place a few times. More than ready. Had even gone so far as having papers drawn up, but he could never bring himself to sign on the dotted line. 

How pathetic was that? Holding on to a place that he couldn't stand—hated more than he hated himself—just because it was all that he had left of his night with Mac. Mac Ramsey—an eighteen year old kid who'd become his devil and his savior. 

The stupid ass punk haunted Vic's every sleeping moment and most of his waking. Mansfield had lost count of the number of sleepless nights over the past six months. Nights when he tore himself apart for what he'd done. Nights when the only thing that had stopped him from eating a bullet was the desire to make that bitch Rictor pay for ruining the life of an innocent kid. Screw what she'd done to him. He deserved it and he knew it. 

But Mac, his pretty baby had been completely innocent. So sweetly giving—so hot and vibrant under him, around him, working his way into Vic's high security heart without even knowing it. And what had the kid gotten for his innocent trust of Victor? Mac's father was killed while out looking for him, his sister had turned up dead two months ago, and Michael Tang had put a price on his own brother's head—all because Mac had slept with a man he didn't even know was a cop until it was too late. 

So here was Vic, well on his way to becoming a burnt out and bitter husk of a man. When he wasn't working—Narcotics now, he'd gotten the fuck out of Vice once he'd come off his month long suspension for disobeying Rictor's orders—he was working his way through a bottle. Didn't matter what it was, just so long as it dulled the pain enough to let him sleep. 

The bottle of tequila in his hand had been full when he'd forced himself to walk through the door of his own personal purgatory. It was now almost three-quarters empty. The burn was pleasant, an almost enjoyable pain going down. 

He'd thrown the doors to the balcony wide open to help keep him awake when he'd started drinking. 

Vic's face had more than a few days' stubble on it, not that he cared, and his jeans had been through more than a few wars and lost—holes in the knees and the seams white with stress. His tee shirt, which had once hugged a muscular body, was now loose from weight loss, and grungy from lack of care. The circles under his eyes were cavernous and almost midnight blue in color—another sign of lack of sleep, and there were stress lines etched into his forehead. 

"Six months tonight I loved you Mac Ramsey," he whispered into the frigid darkness. "Six months tomorrow that bitch destroyed you. Fuck I want her dead. I want her to rot in hell!" He snarled, hurling the bottle at the wall, listening to the satisfying sound of glass shattering—just like his life. Flinging himself back on the couch he closed his eyes, "Gotta stay awake—at least gotta shut the fucking doors so I don't freeze to death," he mumbled, his eyes closing involuntarily. Wouldn't do to end up dead before he could find a way to destroy Rictor. He was asleep in minutes. 

* * *

Mac had been so prepared to walk into a warm apartment that when he bypassed the electronic lock and opened the door, the frigid air that greeted him came as a complete shock. 

"Fuck!" the teen exclaimed, shutting the door behind him and striding across the room to close the sliding glass door, sealing the cold out and the heat in. "What the..." he muttered, turning slowly and scanning the room as he realized he had just made a stupid and potentially deadly error. 

No motion greeted his slow surveillance of the living room, and there was no noise audible except the incessant drone of the heater striving to drive the damp chill from the air. Mac relaxed imperceptibly, then almost jumped out of his skin when a raspy snore split the air. 

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he swore, already halfway to the door before it hit him that whoever had made the noise wasn't moving from their position on the couch. 

Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, Mac crept closer, going against his better judgment to satisfy his curiosity. The smell of alcohol grew stronger the closer he got to the sofa and the thief's mouth twisted in an expression of disgust as he leaned in and got a face-full of the fumes. 

"Mansfield..." The word was breathed out almost gleefully, and Mac's eyes lit up at the thought of what had basically been dropped in his lap to do with as he pleased. Victor the vice cop. Asleep. Drunk. And all his. 

Shoving aside the part of him that wanted to be concerned over the older man's haggard appearance, and the part that wanted to relive the events of half a year before, Mac leaned closer, running a finger over the cop's stubbled jaw. 

Dead to the world—and cold too. 

Shit. 

After waging a momentary internal war, Mac went in search of a blanket, purposefully avoiding the master bedroom as he looked. No way was he going in there if he could help it, just being here was bad enough as it was without that. 

Dropping the quilted throw he'd found over Victor's prone form, Mac retreated to the overstuffed chair opposite it, contemplating his next move as he waited for the other man to wake up and face what he had coming. 

* * *

Vic wasn't sure of what had dragged him from his drunken stupor until he remembered the last time he'd felt this prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Not bothering to open his eyes he growled out softly. "I told you last time you heartless blood-sucking bitch, that if I ever caught you sniffing around me again they wouldn't be able to find enough of you to identify the body. You've already ruined the kid's life, then there's the lovely little side-trip through hell I get to live every day, you've had more than your pound of my flesh Rictor —ain't gonna get anymore. So get. The fuck. Out!" 

When he didn't hear movement, Vic slowly turned his head and opened his eyes. And decided that maybe he'd finally died and gotten the real hell he deserved. "Mac... baby?" he managed to choke out, staring at someone who looked like Mac, yet was tougher, harder, a more sinister copy of the sweet young man who'd broken through his defenses six months ago. Finally unable to bear the menacing stare from this tormenting vision/apparition, he rolled away, trying to block out those laser sharp eyes. "Not real, never real," the cop moaned, pressing his face into the back of the couch. 

"Oh I'm real all right," the younger man snarled, dragging his hiking boots from the coffee table and leaning in, his fingers twitching in anticipation of wrapping around the older man's neck. "You'll find out just how real if you call me 'baby' again, _Detective_ Mansfield." 

Mac had expected the white-hot anger that swept through him at the sound of the cop's voice, but what he hadn't anticipated was the bone-jarring arousal that flooded him at the same time. Somehow that rough, velvety voice had invaded his dreams, twining itself with whatever pleasurable ones he'd managed to have since his life had been ripped apart, etching itself into his consciousness. 

His cock twitched within the confines of his jeans, a fact that only goaded Mac on in the course he was taking—the one that included ignoring everything the other man said as a lie. "What? No kids to pick up tonight or your boss decide you look too ratty for that now and put you out to pasture?" 

"M-Mac?" Victor gasped almost inaudibly. No, it couldn't be—but oh God it sounded like him, it was Mac's voice, yet harsher, crueler. The venomous words registered dimly and were accepted as being deserved. He owed this kid... so much. 

Slowly rolling onto his back, Vic stared up at the ceiling. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ look Mac in the eye. "Don't work for her anymore," he mumbled softly. "When I wouldn't turn over she suspended me and tried to have me brought up on charges. IA had a field day. I switched to Narcotics once they gave me my badge back, not that it mattered. Only one reason why I even stayed..." Revenge, he thought to himself, cold, bloody revenge. 

"Poor baby." Mac's reply was filled with vitriol. "Though I suppose it does make getting those drugs you seem so fond of easier." 

"What are you doing here, Mac?" Vic finally managed to choke out, not really expecting an answer. "What do you want?" 

The younger man sneered at that, then flicked his tongue out over his lower lip, the stud that impaled it flashing in the dim lighting. "The list is long and varied, Vice-man, and exceedingly bloody." Noting that Victor still refused to look at him, Mac stood and went to rummage in the kitchen cabinets. "Don't you have any... ah!" He returned to the living room, brandishing a bottle of bourbon in his left hand. The young thief took a swig and grimaced at the taste, then licked his lips and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, leaning in over Vic and eyeing him wickedly. "First and foremost would be giving you a taste of what fun I've had since our 'date'. You game?" 

Vic wasn't sure he was, but... fuck how he'd missed the younger man. Not even a night and something about Mac Ramsey had found a home inside Victor. And it hurt. Bad. 

Although Victor was willing to take the lion's share of the younger man's accusations and pain, there was one thing he wouldn't be blamed for. "I didn't drug you, Mac. I tried my hardest to see that you weren't, but the bitch overrode me and then decided to 'help' me along with it too. I didn't want... Fuck, who am I kidding here? I wanted you so bad from the moment I saw your picture that I let Rictor lead me around by the balls," Victor sighed before trying to knock the bourbon bottle out of the younger man's hands. 

"And you're too fucking young to be drinking that stuff—especially in my house. Put it back!" It was only then that he noticed the glint of silver on Mac's lush, glistening tongue. Victor could only stare at the younger man in shocked dismay. "Oh, Mac—what have I done?" he almost sobbed, his breath catching, his eyes watering, and his throat constricting painfully. Before he could think, it slipped out. "Baby..." 

"Don't. Call. Me. That." Mac's voice cracked with the strain of keeping it from trembling and he fisted his hand in Vic's shirt, dragging the other man closer to him, staring into his bloodshot eyes. "Don't ever call me that again or you'll think whatever your boss did to you was a fuckin' party compared to it." 

The younger man's breathing was short and erratic and his dark eyes were wild and slightly unfocused as he shoved Vic back against the couch, then took a deliberate swig from the bottle he still held. "You aren't my father, Vic-tor - he's dead if you hadn't heard that choice bit of news—so don't act like you give a shit what I drink or where." Mac took another drink, letting his tongue play around the rim of the bottle and smirking to himself at the reaction it drew from the cop. 

"You know, maybe I should thank you, man. Not many people get fucked, fucked over and then have their lives fucked up all in one day. It did teach me som ething though—people are willing to do just about anything for you if you give them what they want. It's pretty damn funny actually." The misery in Vic's eyes was a treat and Mac lapped it up, reveling in his ability to inflict pain on this man who had given him so much. Who gave a fuck if Vic hadn't had him drugged—if he was even telling the truth about it. He knew what was going on and had participated willingly and enthusiastically. Another memory breached, sending cascades of auditory and tactile ghosts over Mac's tightly strung nerves and he shuddered, banishing the feelings with another gulp of the harsh fire of the whiskey. 

Six months of anger, bitterness and, until now, unacknowledged resentment seemed to coalesce in Victor at that moment. Before he'd realized it, he had slapped the bottle out of Mac's hand, hard, was sitting up and in the younger man's face. Vic didn't even notice the bourbon soaking into the oriental carpet that covered gleaming bleached wood floors, his attention was focused on the rebellious teen in front of him. 

"Do you think that I _wanted_ all of this Ramsey? That I _wanted_ you? I'm a fucking cop for Christ's sake—and I used to be a damn good one until you and your happy little family decided to come to town. I had orders, _kid_ ," he sneered. "Orders to help bring down the godfather of an Asian criminal organization who was bringing contraband into the country. So I was supposed to set up his youngest son—the one who was known for almost every style of theft known to law enforcement—a _criminal_ in his own right. You really think I would _want_ to fall for a thief, especially a teenaged one? Can you say jailbait? Yeah, I _really_ wanted to throw my career away for the naive little larcenous brat of a fucking crime lord! There's a fan-fucking-tastic career move for sure," Vic continued mercilessly. 

"Oh and here's a news flash for you—I honestly can't say I give a rat's ass that your old man is dead. Far as I'm concerned the only good thing he ever did, other than raise you, was dying. Do you even know why dear old 'daddy' was in Canada, junior? Son of a bitch was here to oversee the shipment of guns headed for the States—and the hands of whatever stupid ass teenager or junkie or idiot with a vendetta that could buy them. That and the couple hundred kilos of China White he was bringing in as a sideline. So forgive me if I don't mourn for the bastard, okay?" the cop continued to spew venomously. 

"But hey we all know fate is a bitch to rival my ex—boss, so guess what happens? I get called into said bitch's office, given the assignment from hell and get shown a picture of the kid I'm supposed to roll over. Then I get an eyeful of you and my career, beliefs, hell my fucking _life_ goes right out the window 'coz I know, I _know_ I can't do that to you. Not that it matters because dragon lady slips me the same drug and all I can fucking see, want, _need_ is some snot-nosed _baby_ with more attitude than brains and I end up screwing myself royally by screwing him. Fucking great career move, a cop committing rape!" 

"Even after I toss it all to protect said snot nosed kid, I get screwed over by the ex-boss, raked across IA's coals, suspended, and have Rictor threaten to have me arrested on whatever trumped up charges she can, _then_ try to crawl into bed with me 'coz she likes the new Victor. Oh yeah, let's not forget the transfer into another department that makes Vice seem like the fucking boy and girl scouts of America in comparison, even that's not enough." 

"Neither, apparently, is six months of guilt and hell, drinking myself into oblivion whenever I can, letting my conscience eat me alive. So tell me _Mac_ what is enough? You want my blood? Sure, I'm sure there's plenty of sharp objects in this apartment that will let you get quick and immediate access. You wanna take a chunk of my hide? Go for it—hell, feel free to rip my fucking heart out, not that I have one according to you. No wait, the mess would be a bitch to clean up—how about my gun instead?" Vic unclipped his HK USP45 Tactical, released the safety and shoved it at the teen 

"Go ahead Ramsey—have a party. Oh yeah since I haven't written up a will or anything, here's the keys to the place. Consider it your reward for your righteous revenge against the evil mother-fucking cop who single handedly, without ever truly caring about you or the consequences, destroyed your fucking life in a cold-blooded, calculating and totally emotionless manner," Vic continued, tossing the keys next to the youth. "But whatever the fuck it is that you want—just get it the hell over with because I'm sick and tired of the dancing and bullshit and my fucking life in general. Here's your chance, Ramsey, go on, show everyone just what an evil, unconscionable bastard I really am. Do the world in general and yourself in particular a favor, and pull the fucking trigger!" 

Seething emotions joined forces with the undiluted bourbon to make war on Mac's empty stomach. Bullshit, that's all it was, complete and total bullshit. Mansfield was just trying to fuck with his head, to save his own skin, to... The weight of the semi-automatic pistol tugged at Mac's hand and he refocused his attention on the smooth metal that filled his palm. What would it feel like to pull the trigger? To plant a bullet between the cop's hate-filled eyes, to end the vicious words that were even now eating at the self-righteous fury that had possessed Mac and fueled his life, forcing him to keep going when he was ready to give in, give up. 

Would Mansfield's last expression be one of shock or would the sneering twist of his lips remain? As his eyes filmed over, would he cast a last scornful look on his killer, pitying him even in death? It wasn't supposed to be like this. All Mac had wanted out of this night was somewhere warm to curl up and hide for a while. He couldn't handle this, not now. His foundation had been knocked off kilter during their first meeting and each derogatory word Vic spoke succeeded in chipping away at what was left of it. 

If only he could talk to his father, or Li Ann, or even Michael, but they were all gone, the first two dead and the third wanting to kill him. The only tenuous connection Mac had to his past was Victor, and the cop obviously didn't care if either of them lived or died. Fine. If that was how he wanted to play it, that's how they would. 

Schooling his features into a hard mask, but unable to completely hide the anguish in his eyes, Mac extended the gun, pointing it at the center of Victor's chest. "Thanks for the opportunity, man. Won't bring back Pop and Li Ann, but it's a start." A small tremor communicated itself to the deadly weapon, then the air echoed with the sound of the shot and the dull thud as the bullet embedded itself in the plaster behind the sofa. 

Vic's whole world narrowed down to the younger man's words and Mac's finger on the trigger. Then Mac squeezed it and Vic felt something inside him die, just like he was going to. And he shut down. 

Except he didn't die, the sofa did. It almost felt like he was under water, or not really there, that slow motion, life flashing before your eyes sort of thing. Turning his head he stared at the hole in the couch, then the one in the wall behind it while his heart shut down and iced over. Something cold and ugly was born in Victor. A raging hate, not of Mac, but of the person, no persons, who'd done this to the sweet, innocent kid he'd known only for a few short hours but would mourn the death of for the rest of his life. 

Eyes burning with an unholy light, Vic turned to the young stranger before him. "That your best shot kid? Tough luck, it's the last one you get." 

All Victor truly wanted to do was to take the younger man in his arms and hold him tight and safe, but he couldn't, instead he could only continue on as he'd started this evening—making Mac hate him all the more. It was for the best though, Vic thought, what little of his heart not yet frozen aching painfully. It was better if all Mac ever remembered of Victor Mansfield was that he was a bastard cop who'd stolen his life. 

Taking the now dangling gun from Mac's trembling hands, Victor calmly, almost icily, re-engaged the safety and re-holstered the weapon. Victor was stone sober now, and colder then he could ever remember being. It was as if everything had gone numb or simply iced over. Even his rage was cold, frozen beyond belief. And it was all directed on one person. Rictor. 

"Like I said earlier, the place is yours kid. Have a nice life. I'd say see you around, but after tonight I seriously doubt that'll happen." If he managed to do what he was planning he'd either be dead or would have to disappear forever. Cop killers were always caught, and if a cop killed another cop it was even worse. He'd have to make arrangements if he got the chance, to see to it that Mac was protected and the condo turned over to him legally with enough money to make sure he was well cared for until he found some legal work. But that was for a later time—if he survived that long. 

With a precise economy of movement, Victor stood, turned and, eyeing his jacket and the younger man wearing it with something akin to regret before shrugging fatalistically. Not like he'd be needing either one after tonight. 

"At least try to have a happy life, baby," Vic murmured gently as he strode out the door without looking back, only a single, regretful sigh for all the might have beens that he'd never have a chance to see now. Then he was striding down the stairs with a grim sense of purpose. He had a sudden yen to go and see Diana Rictor. 

Mac stood there, frozen, as the door snicked shut behind him, his unseeing eyes trained on the bits of stuffing bleeding from the singed hole in the couch's upholstery. "I—" he began, his voice a broken whisper in the still of the apartment. Nausea robbed the thief of his ability to speak and Mac raced for the kitchen, making it to the sink in time to violently lose the bourbon he had downed as well as what little food he'd eaten that day. 

"Jesus. Oh god. Oh fuck." Greasy sweat coated Mac's forehead and he splashed cold water on his face in a feeble attempt to get some kind of hold on his churning emotions. He hadn't meant to pull the trigger, had only wanted to wipe that condescending sneer from Mansfield's face and then... Thank god he'd managed to pull the shot, he hadn't wanted to kill the other man—not really—just make him understand what real misery felt like. 

After rinsing his mouth and spitting to clear the rancid taste, Mac straightened, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand to try and cleanse the memory from his skin. "Need to get out of here." It was too much to deal with. If he stayed here any longer, he'd go as nuts as Victor apparently was. 

_Well you did take a shot at him,_ the nasty little voice of his conscience reminded him. 

"Yeah, well he screwed up my life!" Mac snarled into the empty air. 

_Like he made you sneak out of the hotel and go with him. Deal with it, Ramsey, if you had stayed where you were supposed to, none of this would have happened._

Oh god, it was true, all of it. Mac sagged against the counter, fighting another round of nausea, this one brought on by self-recrimination and not shock. Shit, where had Victor gone? Considering what he had said, wherever it was, it couldn't be good. "Stupid fucker," Mac growled, sprinting out of the apartment and down the stairs, reaching the garage just in time to see a dark green Stealth pull out onto the street, tires squealing on the sleet-slick pavement. "Gonna get yourself killed." Cursing the weather, the idiot cop and his own emotions, the thief threw himself astride his motorcycle, kicked it into gear and pealed out into the wet night, following the vanishing taillights of Victor's car. 

* * *

The drive to Rictor's was relatively short, but long enough for Vic to really think about what he was doing. Could he do this? Could he pull the trigger on his former captain? He'd shot people before—but only as a last resort and always at a soft target like a leg or a shoulder if he could help it. He'd had to shoot to kill twice in his lifetime and the faces of each victim were burned like a scar on his mind. Could he pull the trigger in cold blood? 

Mac's face chose that moment to dance across Victor's mind's eye. Young, haggard, scared beyond measure, eyes older then they should have ever been. Smoking gun in his hand. Rictor had done that. Had taken a naïve kid, albeit a less than honest one, and systematically destroyed his life in order to get her promotion without ever caring what happened to Mac. He'd lost his father, his sister, his brother, his family—everything ever important to him. All for the advancement of Rictor's career. Oh yeah, Victor could pull the trigger all right. It was simple retribution. An eye for an eye and all that. Vic just chose to elect himself judge, jury and executioner. 

Slowing to an almost silent stop in front of the elegant little townhouse complex in Rosedale, Victor didn't notice the nondescript car across the street, he was too busy checking his clip. 

* * *

"You were right, the kid showing up tonight was his breaking point. He's here and he's none too happy. You'd better get here fast or your lookalike is gonna be a dead double," Dobrinsky murmured into his cell. 

A year of watching Victor, waiting for the chance to recruit him, had given Dobrinsky three other now fully trained operatives, but not the one his boss really wanted. Mr. Mansfield had remained an elusive target—the everyman hero who could do no wrong—until Mac Ramsey decided to pay Ace a call tonight and set off a time bomb very few knew about, much less realized had been ticking away. It had been sheer luck that the agent assigned to watch Vic's condo tonight had caught a glimpse of the young man on the bike tearing after Victor. It was the break the Director had been looking for, she was about to get the man she wanted most for the little group she was assembling. Victor was about to fall into her lap, ripe and ready. Dobrinsky just hoped that she showed up before Vic did something really stupid—like actually kill his ex-boss. 

He liked Mansfield. He was a good guy, if a little too much of a bleeding heart do-gooder. At least he had been until the Tangs came to town half a year ago. Still was in many ways—a tarnished hero attempting to right the wrong he'd committed, to pay his debt to a kid who had somehow managed to do what no one else ever had in Mansfield's life—get buried inside the man. He watched with more than a little uneasiness as Victor got out of the car and very calmly made his way towards Rictor's front door. The Director had better get there soon. 

* * *

Gun checked and bullet in the chamber, Victor got out of the car and walked silently towards Rictor's front door. Raising a fist, he thought to knock, then after a quick scan, thought better of it, got out his lock pick set and pulled on the leather gloves he had in his pocket—no prints, no mess. The kid wasn't the only one who knew what to do with a pick. The door swung silently open and Victor stalked into the darkened interior, moving unerringly towards what was probably the living room, where a tv flickered. 

Something wasn't quite right, but Vic couldn't put his finger on it and didn't really care. Moving into the room he saw her sitting in an overstuffed chair watching... Victor watching her. The place was being monitored with a feed directly into the television. What the fuck? More importantly who the fuck was this? She looked like Rictor—and yet this was definitely not Rictor. His ex-boss was a barracuda—this woman was a viper—much more deadly and even more lethal. And yet—strangely enough, Vic liked her on the spot—until she spoke that was. 

"Hello Victor, do sit down and join me, we have a lot to talk about. Oh—and you can call me The Director, only fair since I now own your life." 

* * *

What the fuck was going on here? 

Mac shut off the bike's engine and rolled it up to the curb several buildings away from where Victor's car was parked. He'd spotted at least two people watching the cop break into the upscale townhouse, but as to who they were and what they wanted, he had no clue. Something was going on here, and it wasn't good. 

Unable to understand why he'd want to protect Mansfield, but needing to do something in that regard, Mac eased himself off the motorcycle, cursing silently as his soaked jeans clung to his legs, making each step a misery. God he hated the cold, and it seemed he was destined to spend this whole night that way. 

_Concentrate on the job,_ the thief reminded himself as he ghosted up the walkway along the back side of the building, his keen eyes searching for an unguarded entrance into the place. The windows of the unit he was casing were guarded by a top of the line security system, not that its presence deterred Mac for more then a few seconds. Fry the contacts, slip the lock, and bingo... 

The window slid up without a hitch and Mac prepared to boost himself into the room when he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. 

"Planning on going somewhere, kid? I'd say entering through the front door is more polite." 

Cursing viciously and struggling to break free of the iron-hard grip on his arm, Mac fought until he was slammed up against the side of the townhouse and found himself gasping for breath while staring at a tall bald man who's grin flashed whitely against his dark skin. 

"C'mon, kid. Inside. Looks like it's two for one night for us." 

Try as he might, Mac found it impossible to break free of the bald man's grip and he finally gave in, following meekly along as he was dragged into the elegantly appointed home. Maybe, just maybe, going along with whatever this was would earn him a little leeway and if it did, he was out of here. 

"Easy on the jacket, it's not mine," he griped, yanking his arm away from the older man and giving himself a shake, sending a cascade of water droplets flying out from his body as he was unceremoniously pushed into the living room. 

Mac opened his mouth to complain again, then closed it as he stared in disbelief at the huge wingback chair where Victor Mansfield was sitting, then at the other one where a handsome red-haired woman held court. "What the fuck is going on here?" he blurted out, beginning to think this whole thing was just another setup. 

* * *

"What the fuck do you mean you own my life? No one owns me lady—least of all someone I don't know from hell, and who happens to look like my ex-boss to boot," Vic responded defiantly even as his watery knees forced him into the nearby wingback. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong Victor—but you came here with the intent to kill Captain Rictor did you not? A little too late unfortunately—she's... disappeared. Permanently. However, that does not change your intent. Killing someone is a crime, plotting to kill someone is a crime—plotting to kill a cop is a death sentence waiting to happen. Being a cop yourself—well they'd probably let you go to prison, and make sure you got into general. After all, that way you'd be dead and their hands would still be lily white. Sensing a pattern here Mr. Mansfield?" the Director replied calmly, her fingers steepled, elbows resting on the chair arms, her leather clad legs crossed and her stiletto heels making them appear longer. 

"However, I can offer you an alternative. Work for me." 

"And just who the fuck are you?" Vic managed to choke out. 

"I'm your last chance. I can offer you a career in law enforcement, working for a government agency and working for me. You'd be above the local laws, above most of them. My organization is international in its scope and it's authority. You'd be doing good work Victor—helping a lot of people who needed it. Taking down criminals like Michael Tang and his ilk. Preventing what happened to young Mr. Ramsey from ever happening again. You'd have a great deal of authority Victor - and even more as you prove yourself. You have potential Mr. Mansfield. More than I've seen in a long, long time," the slinky redhead purred. 

"So what's your answer—work for me, or prison?" 

"When you put it like that—don't really have much of a choice now do I?" Vic sighed heavily. Well, guess it could be worse, he could be stuck with... 

"Dobrinsky?!" he managed to gasp before he registered just who his ex-partner was dragging in behind him, before he got a good look at the slightly drowned looking thief he'd left in his apartment an hour ago, brown eyes looking a little scared and a whole lot belligerent. Before Victor heard the softly gasped "What the fuck is going on here?" 

"Oh no, no way! No fucking way!! He is _not_ part of this, Director or whatever the fuck your name is. Leave the kid alone!" Vic was out of his seat and ripping Dobie's arm off of Mac before anyone could move, and shoving the youth behind him. "Mac has nothing to do with this—let him go." 

"Of course we will, Victor," the Director purred, "but young Mr. Ramsey is in the country illegally. Mr. Dobrinsky, please see that Mr. Ramsey is escorted to the airport and put on the first available flight back to Hong Kong. I understand that your brother is very anxious to welcome you back home, Mr. Ramsey," the red head continued to purr—this time much more menacingly. 

"Dobie, you touch him and I'll fucking break you," Vic growled softly, his eyes flashing green fire as he positioned himself in such a way that the bigger man would have to go through him to get to Mac. No one was gonna hurt Mac ever again. 

Turning to the viper, Vic sold his soul to the devil without a second thought. "Okay lady you win—whatever you want from me, it's yours. Whatever the price. Just leave the kid alone. You never saw him, he was never here. This never happened. Just let him walk away and you've got me forever." 

The Director smiled ferally. "Still the white knight trying to save the innocent young victim, Victor? Even after he tried to kill you with your own gun," she tsked softly. "Very well. Mac Ramsey was never here. My people and I never saw him. But you Victor... you're all mine," the older woman purred in absolute delight. 

* * *

Mac wondered if he'd stumbled into some weird new age play or something. Who was this woman and what was she talking about? When Vic grabbed him, dragging him away from the guy who'd caught him, the young man almost fell but recovered in time to come up against the cop's back. Sputtering out half-formed protests to this treatment, Mac tried to push his way around Victor, especially when he heard the news that he was getting sent back to Hong Kong. No way, no how. He wouldn't last ten seconds there, not with the price Michael had on his head. Yes, he had plans to go back, but they included making his brother pay for what he had done, not ending up dead in the street. 

"You think you're sending me back there, you're crazy, lady!" Mac growled in frustration when none of the others in the room paid him any attention—and then Victor gave in, turning himself over to whatever it was witch wanted. This was wrong, way wrong. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snarled, grabbing Vic's arm and yanking the other man around to look at him. "I don't need a protector or someone martyring himself to 'save' me. And you—" here he rounded on the woman, jabbing his finger in her direction. "Guess what lady, I'm here, saying I'm not isn't going to make me go away. Whatever you want from Mansfield, I have a prior claim on him so you're just gonna have to wait. You want to try to send me back to Hong Kong, go ahead, but you'll have to catch me first." 

"Mac, stay out of this," Victor ordered, trying to turn away from the younger man and face his new boss once more, slapping the younger man's hand down. "You don't know what's going on, so keep your pretty little mouth shut." 

Swinging back to the Director, Vic tried to smooth things over. "He's just a kid, and one with a massive chip on his shoulder. You pushed the wrong buttons, is all," Vic explained away. "Lemme take him home and then we can talk, you can have Dobie follow me if you want," the ex-cop wheedled. He wanted Mac away from this woman. Now. She had the hairs on the back of his neck crawling. This was not good. 

"Oh but Victor, I think I like this 'charming' young man," the red head spat out softly. "He's got a nice set on him for one so young if he thinks he can actually stand up to me. Perhaps... well, Mr. Dobrinsky, what do you think?" 

"The kid's got some impressive talent. You know that ring of thieves that's been running out of that warehouse down in the industrial park, the one they shut down tonight? Macky was one of the primary players. Not to mention that the Tangs taught him quite a few 'interesting' trades that could be worth our while. Our boy here speaks at least two other languages besides English and Chinese—and he speaks dialects of that—Cantonese and Mandarin. I'd say he'd make a nice addition," Dobrinsky replied calmly, ignoring the fury springing into Victor's eyes. 

"No. Fucking. Way!" the cop bellowed. "You keep your god damned hands off of him or no fucking deal. I am not going to let you use him the way I did. I'm not letting him get hurt again—you got me?!" 

"Oh but this isn't up to you, Victor. Now be an angel and sit. Come join us Mr. Ramsey. I think perhaps I need to re-evaluate my assessment of you, yes?" 

"Yeah, go sit down Victor. I want to hear what she has to say." Ignoring the barely banked fury in the older man's eyes and the feeling that he should be more then a little grateful for what Vic had tried to do for him, Mac sauntered past the cop and toward the cozy little seating arrangement. 

Whoever these people were, they knew too much about him. The depth of their information was unnerving as well as the fact that they seemed to have his weaknesses pegged with laser-sharp intensity. But if they knew that, why did they keep throwing his safety up in Victor's face as a threat? Ignoring the question as unimportant for now, Mac dropped onto the damask tapestry sofa and sprawled out, kicking his boots up onto the expensive fabric with little heed for the muddy marks they left behind. 

"So, you seem to know all there is to know about me, care to fill me in on you?" The question may have been asked with studied nonchalance, but even as he spoke, Mac was studying the room and the people in it, working on an escape plan that would hopefully get Vic out of there too. Even though he only dealt with the periphery of the Tang crime syndicate, Mac knew danger when he saw it and this woman embodied the word. 

"All in good time, Mr. Ramsey, all in good time," the Director smiled, her eyes raking over the youth's lithe form and causing Victor's teeth to clench even tighter—something that humored her to no end. 

"Oh relax Victor, unlike _some_ people around here, Mr. Ramsey is just a _little_ too young for my taste. You however," the red head got up out of her chair in a catlike stretch and stalked towards the soon to be ex-cop. Running a blood red tipped finger down the center of Vic's chest, she brushed up against him. "Clean you up a bit, make sure you gain all that weight you shed pining for little lost Mac, and you'll be just about right." 

Vic backed hastily away, so fast he didn't realize the wingback he'd been sitting in was directly behind him, and he found himself unceremoniously sitting once more—caged by the prowling Director. "This was _not_ part of that deal I made. Work wise, you got me—my personal life is... 

"Mine as well Victor—just like I told you before Mr. Ramsey decided to join our little party. I own you now—you and your little Mac too," the Director snickered softly, before sauntering away. God she loved making grown men tremble in fear, not to mention the heated look she received from young Mac as she went after 'his man'. 

Foolish boys—she could read them both like books—the sexual tension, the lust, the almost compulsive need to protect one another. These two were going to cause her a lot of problems and disappoint a great many people at the Agency, female and male alike, because it was obvious to anyone who knew how to read people, as she did, that these two were going to be explosive together—and probably for a very long time. 

Returning to her 'throne' she turned to her aide. "Mr. Dobrinsky, these two fine gentlemen will be added to the roster immediately. You will see to their training —oh and make sure they clean up nice. Victor, your resignation has already been tendered for you, and a letter dispatched to your, parents," the director sniffed haughtily at that last word. She'd made sure she knew _everything_ there was to know about Mr. Mansfield, and she was less than enamored of his parents and elder sibling. How they'd managed to make someone like Victor she'd never know. 

"You've decided to go away for two months—to 'find yourself' and you will be in touch when you return. That flea trap you normally live in has been condemned. Your things are being boxed even as we speak and will put into storage at the condominium—your new place of residence. When you return, you will become employed as a security consultant for a company that protects government officials, and you will be the 'host father' of a young man who's come to Canada from Hong Kong to study here," she smirked. 

"Mac—say hello to your new 'daddy'. You will ostensibly be under Victor's guardianship. You will attend any of the institutions of higher learning here in the city—your choice as to which one and your course of study. This is your cover. You will also live at the condo, with your own room—sleeping arrangements I leave to the two of you, of course, but appearances must be kept. Especially when Victor's relatives come to town. I don't foresee you having the same problem Mr. Ramsey," the older woman said matter-of-factly as she turned her attention towards Mac. 

"Seeing as how no one will miss you, no one has been notified. You too will be trained with Victor, considering that the two of you shall be living and working so closely from now on, you may as well start getting used to each other immediately. I suggest you boys find some way to settle your differences and fast. I will not tolerate either of you trying to kill the other, you're partners from now on, until _I_ decide otherwise. Welcome to your new lives, gentlemen." 

With that, the Director stood and swept out of the room, leaving a speechless Victor in her wake. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Mac. God—he'd really, _really_ screwed the kid's life up now. 

"Hey, cheer up Ace," Dobrinsky slapped him on the back. "You're gonna be in great company. The Director managed to snag Jacks, Camier and Murphy as well. It's gonna be like a Vice reunion—the three of us and the creeps from Asian Crime. And you get to keep playing with the pretty little boy toy too," the big man chuckled. 

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't fucking breathe near me!" Victor ground out, still staring at the vacated seat. "And if you ever call me Ace again or suggest what you just did, _Dobie_ you're gonna be living with your dick crammed down your throat—got it?" 

"Whatever—Vic-tor, now move. You and Macky boy here got a date with the trainers." 

After listening to the Director's blithe pronouncement concerning his future, Mac had been ready to blow up and rip a strip out of her leather covered hide. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with Mansfield full time, especially with the older man as his 'guardian'. God, just the thought of having to live with the cop made his stomach clench, though it felt different then any normal apprehension he'd felt before. 

A very vocal and crude protest died on the thief's lips however, when her next comments drove home the fact that this was all he had to his life. There was nothing else and never would be at this rate. Pushing the memories of his life in Hong Kong to the back of his mind and swallowing hard to cover any slippage of his bored expression, Mac remained silent through his new boss's—hell, his new owner's blithe platitudes and breezy exit. 

Maybe he had to take her shit, but he sure didn't have to take it from whoever the fuck this other guy was. With a show of feigned insolence, Mac waited until Victor stood then, using the older man's movements as a distraction, launched himself at the Director's stooge. Using the momentum he'd built up as he barreled into the larger man, Mac shoved him back against the wall, pulling the collar of his tailored shirt tight around his neck. 

"Call me a boy toy again and the Vice-man over there won't be able to find your dick to cram it down your throat if he does come after you, understand?" 

The sudden pressure under his rib cage made Mac aware of the pistol the other man had trained on him, but he didn't give an inch. "Wanna shoot me? Go ahead though I don't think your boss would like it too much considering I seem to be a piece in whatever fucked up game it is she's playing." 

Dobrinsky smiled at that and jabbed his gun deeper into Mac's ribs. "Not if I don't kill you, Macky, and trust me, I know where to shoot to make you wish you were dead while not granting the wish. Now be a good boy and get moving, don't want to be late do you?" 

Mac stepped back at that, his tension-filled body radiating anger, pain and disgust with everything about the situation, himself included. Why was it every time he went near Victor Mansfield his life turned inside out? And why wasn't he smart enough to stay away? 

Casting one last sneering glance at the Director's unruffled assistant, Mac spat out a curse in Russian toward him, then looked over toward Victor. "Looks like it's back to school for you, _partner_." 

"Fuck you, Ramsey," Vic bit out without thinking. "Oh right—been there, done that, and can't even say I enjoyed the ride." Storming past Dobrinsky and the young man, who was now sporting a devastated expression on his face, Victor let his fury carry him outside and into his car. 

"What the hell am I doing?" he whispered, looking at his reflection in the mirror dark glass. It would be so easy. Just swallow the barrel and pull the trigger. But Mac would be left alone—with _her_. No matter how cruel he'd just been, he'd never let his baby face whatever was in store for him alone. Mac was his, whether he knew it or not. His to protect and watch over. It was the least he owed the kid after screwing up his life. 

"You may hate me Mac," he whispered as he watched Dobrinsky escort the young man outside and to his bike with what looked like a stern admonishment to follow closely. "But you're stuck with me. I'm gonna make sure you make it through this in one piece—I promise. God, oh god baby... I miss you." Wiping a trembling hand over a suddenly damp face, Vic turned to see Dobrinsky watching him with something akin to understanding in his eyes. A slight dip of the head and a smile of encouragement. Maybe things wouldn't be that bad after all 

* * *

Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: R for language   
Status: New, complete   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] and [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby 2   
Website: <http://thesleepydragon.com/>   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: Rosedale is an upscale, old money, area of Toronto, Queens Quay is young, hip, vibrant and pricey. It's where many of the beautiful people live. Only fitting Vic does   
Summary: Six months later after their night together, both Victor and Mac's lives have taken a turn for the worse, but someone is waiting to bring them back into line.   
---


	3. III: First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part IIIFirst Steps**

From a distance the Agency training facility looked like a fancy spa. According to the Director, it, in fact, used to be one until the Agency had 'acquired' it. There were tiny little cottages for each of the Agency's guests and such lovely amenities as endurance tracks and obstacle courses. 

There were indoor and outdoor shooting ranges, a street scene walk through and a rifle range, each complete with moving targets. Inside there were classes on self-defense taught by some of the most highly skilled assassins in the business as well as classes on interrogation, counter-intelligence, information gathering and a myriad of other helpful little courses needed for the wonderful world of secret agency life. 

It was a high intensity training program meant to push new agents to their limits and beyond. It was also meant to weed out the ones who'd be problematic. There were physicals, psychological assessments, drug tests, everything imaginable to properly assess the new recruits. Diet was structured to each person as were the individual training programs. 

Victor Mansfield, for example, was being groomed as team leader, although he wasn't aware of it. His police skills of marksmanship, investigation and interrogation were supplemented and he was given some crash martial arts training with counter intelligence thrown in on the side. A nice, rounded education. He was also being trained with his new 'partner' in an effort to help the two men resolve their rather obvious differences. Which led to Vic's current mood. 

Victor slammed the door to his temporary home at the Agency training facility with a satisfying thud. He wasn't quite sure who he wanted to kill more at this point; the Director, for sucking him into this nightmare, Dobrinsky, for being the jailer from hell, or Mac for being... well Mac. 

Not that he could actually kill the younger man. Director's orders, he and his 'charge' were to be one big, happy family. "Bullshit! The kid's doing his best to drive me fucking nuts!" Vic growled, fully aware that his rooms were probably bugged. "If everyone knows what the fuck is good for them they're gonna stay the hell away from me tonight. God, I need a drink, either that or I need to shoot someone. Better yet, I need to get laid, anything to work off this god damned tension." 

For the past two weeks, hell, ever since they'd been shipped to this country club, Mac had done every and anything he could to provoke the older man. The kid was itching for a fight, that much was obvious, but Vic, already feeling more guilt than he thought possible, wasn't about to add to his burden by plowing a kid he had more than a few feelings for. It had taken Vic a while, but now he could admit it without wanting to choke on the thought—he had some _deep_ feelings for the pain in the ass _baby_ he was stuck with for what looked to be the rest of his fucking life. 

Throwing himself into an overstuffed chair, Victor stared stonily at the fireplace in front of him. "Why the hell do these rooms have fireplaces for fucks sake? Wanna make us condemned souls actually feel like we're at home?" 

"Actually Victor, we normally use the cottages you and Mac have for our 'special' techniques training, mostly for our Section Six recruits—seduction, games, - you know, honey trap techniques," the Director purred from the bedroom doorway. "I thought it fitting considering how you and Mr. Ramsey met," she continued. "Hmmm, perhaps we should have you trained in Section Six techniques too, considering your experience in the area," she continued thoughtfully, slinking out of the room, her skin tight leopard skin catsuit appearing to be merely painted on. 

"Why are you here?" Vic moaned, burying his head in his hands. "And forget it—I don't play those games anymore—for anyone!" 

The Director continued to slink forward, and, pushing Victor upright again, she straddled his lap quite close to his groin. Pulling the green-eyed agent's head down to her rather pillowy breasts, the woman began to croon softly. "Poor, poor Victor. So unloved and unappreciated. The little brat should be spanked and sent to bed without any supper for the way he's treating you. I even have a riding crop with his name on it. Why don't you let Di take care of you tonight, help you relieve some of that tension?" she purred softly. 

* * *

"That's it, you're almost there. Oh yeah, that's the spot! C'mon, c'mon!" 

The breathy voice whispering the words in his ear almost diverted Mac's attention from the task at hand and he closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. Control and concentration were the only ways to get through this, though both were things his instructor seemed to delight in stripping from him. 

Ignore the soft blonde hair that was tickling his ear and neck, ignore the trim body pressed up against him, just live in the moment, feel only what was under his hands. A bead of sweat rolled down Mac's face and he barely managed to keep from squirming as it was licked away by a hot, wet tongue. 

Two problems there—the first being that if he did move, all the prep work he'd done would be lost and the second, more infuriating, reason was that as much as he wanted to enjoy it, her touch was more distracting than arousing. 

"Mmmm, nice, god you have good hands, they're perfect for this." 

_They should be considering I've spent over half my life being trained to do this,_ Mac snorted to himself, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the last of the tension in his body, heightening his senses just when he needed the boost the most. 

Three, two, there. A soft click and the vault opened, each of the five different locks holding it shut having been breached in turn. Unable to stop himself from grinning at the shock that momentarily suffused the young woman's expression, Mac straightened, holding the heavy door open for her gallantly. "Well?" 

The blonde pushed her hair back off her forehead as she consulted her stopwatch, then made a notation on the clipboard she carried. "Fifty eight seconds, not bad at all." 

"Fifty eight seconds!" Mac broke into a huge grin at that and indulged himself in a short victory dance. " Can't break a minute my ass!" 

"Enjoy your celebration for now, Macky. Tomorrow you do it again blindfolded and with gloves on." 

Mac's elation died a swift and sudden death and the young man groaned out a muffled curse. Did these people ever stop? Ah, screw em, he was done for the night and Murphy now owed him a hundred bucks. Granted, that guy and his partner were both creepy sons of bitches, but they paid their debts. 

"Okay Teach, gloves and a blindfold. Sounds kinky, but whatever you're into." Giving the woman a half-assed salute, Mac jogged along the pathways toward his temporary home. At least it was his alone—or near enough, even though it was connected to Victor's rooms by a door that didn't lock. 

Victor. That thought succeeded in sapping Mac's good mood as quickly as rain soaked into an arid desert. How the hell were they ever going to pull off this "guardian and ward" scenario when they couldn't even be in the same room without taking potshots at each other? 

Just looking at the older man made Mac want to grab him, wrap his hands around his neck and... The problem was that Mac couldn't decide if he wanted to slowly strangle the ex-cop for everything that had happened or kiss that superior expression off his face. 

Hell, who was he kidding? Given the damn dreams that came knocking almost every night, the thief knew what he'd do if given a choice, only thing was that Vic was never going to present him with that choice. Pity—oh yeah, that was there. Disgust too, but lust? No way, not our Victor that's for sure. 

"Eh, fuck it, not gonna let that ruin my night." Banishing the depressing thoughts from his brain, Mac regained his grin as he recalled that, during one of the rare moments that he and Victor had been able to stay in the same room together for more then five minutes without the threat of bodily harm or the intervention of one of the other agents, the cop had offered up the same bet Murphy had. 

"Oh yeah, Vice-man. That's one hundred dollars, payable now," the young thief smirked, passing straight through his rooms and shoving open the connecting door to Mansfield's cottage. "Yo, Victor, do I have news for you! You..." 

The sight of his so-called partner with his face buried in their boss's mostly exposed cleavage stopped Mac cold and sent something deep inside of him teetering out of control. "Whoops, sorry 'Dad', didn't mean to interrupt you and 'Mom'. Just be careful, don't want any new baby brothers or sisters running around." As he spoke, Mac was backing rapidly for the door, and the moment he crossed the threshold, he slammed it shut behind him. 

* * *

"What the—Mac!" Vic called out, his voice muffled by the over blown bosom cradling his face. "Will you get off me. Dammit!" Pushing the Director off his lap as fast as he could, Vic stood to go after him. 

"Warn a girl when you're gonna get into the rough stuff, Victor," the Director groused, dusting herself off. "If I'd known that's the way you liked to play. I would have dressed accordingly. Let him go," she ordered, grabbing Victor's shoulder as he tried to storm past her. "He needed something to shock him out of his little mood. He was being a brat on purpose. Maybe this will straighten him out." 

"Will you stop? Stop playing games with our fucking LIVES!" Vic bellowed, at the end of his rope. "And if you ever, _ever_ do something like that to either of us again, you'd better have Dobie here to protect you, got it?" the infuriated agent spat before heading into Mac's room to try and catch him in order to explain. What, he didn't know, but he'd be damned if he let the Director win whatever game she was playing. 

Standing, the Director smiled, an actual smile since there was no one around to see her acting human. "Well it's about time boys." With a flick of her long red locks, she sauntered out the door and towards her car. Her work here was done. 

* * *

"Well, that was something you don't see every day..." Unaware that he was babbling to himself as he moved around the cabin, Mac mechanically stripped out of his regular clothes and pulled on shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and running shoes. He needed out and he needed out _now_. "Glad I didn't see any more, talk about gross." The image of Victor's hands on the Director's bare skin filled Mac's vision and was immediately replaced by an even more carnal one that rose from the dim recesses of his memories of the night they had shared together. 

Grabbing his Walkman, Mac tore out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him, cranking up the volume until the music blocked out everything else except the feel of the wind and the give of the pine needle strewn path under his feet. Get out, get away, don't think about anything. That was the only way to stay sane and to avoid thinking about what he had just witnessed. 

* * *

Gone. Fuck. Was this the kid's answer to everything? Run away instead of staying to confront the situation. If that was the case it meant that Victor had better get used to spending the better part of his life tearing around wherever they happened to be in order to chase Mac down. 

At least he knew Mac's general whereabouts this time. There was no way for the young man to get out of the Agency compound, and not even Mac would be stupid enough to try it. Victor settled himself into one of the chairs in Mac's room to wait for the young thief's return. There was no way he was going back to his room until he had some back-up. He was not about to face down that black widow of a woman alone. She just plain scared him. 

He shuddered involuntarily when he remembered where his face had been mere minutes ago. What was it about him? He seemed to attract three kinds of people - black widows, wounded birds or bratty teens with chips on their shoulders. Great choices, all of them—especially the last. 

If someone had told Victor a year ago that he'd be involved in a relationship with a man who was barely old enough to shave, someone only a few years older then his baby sister for Christ's sake, he'd have shot first and had them committed later. Yet here he was, one disastrous night behind him, hung up on a _baby_ who made his heart do strange things, and his breath catch whenever he saw him. 

He'd been watching Mac surreptitiously for the past two weeks every chance he got, his eyes seeming to naturally follow the young man. Sometimes Vic could scarcely believe it, the things they had done—the things he desperately wanted to do again—and again, and again. God he was disgusting, lusting after a kid who was barely legal. He was ten years older than Mac for Christ's sake. But it didn't stop the want, or the need that churned his gut. 

"Never thought I'd miss you this much, baby," he whispered into the darkness of the young thief's rooms. "Never thought I'd need you this much." 

"It hurts Mac. I want to touch you, to love you, to get on my knees and beg your forgiveness for being such a shit, and each time I try to open my mouth, poison comes out. Each time you turn those deadly cold eyes on me, I see you pulling the trigger. Fuck, I almost wish you hadn't missed. Don't think it would have hurt this much if you hadn't," Vic moaned, burying his face in his shaking hands. "Never meant to love you baby. You got your revenge without even knowing it. Don't think I'll ever be able to get it back. Don't think I even want it back." 

* * *

The tape in the cassette player ended and the absence of the driving beat sucked the last bit of energy from Mac's body. Head bowed, chest heaving with the exertions of his run, the young man forced himself to continue walking, not wanting to risk a cramp. The cool evening wind fluttered against his soaked shirt, raising a rash of goose flesh on his body and making Mac rub his palms over his arms. He finally looked up, gauging how far he had come and how long it would take to get back to a warm shower. 

_Maybe long enough that the howling from next door will be over by the time I get there._

Determined not to think of what was going on in the cottage next to his own rooms, the young thief raked back his headphones, letting them dangle around his neck, as he surveyed the moonlit expanse below the small hill he stood on. The street walk through. His own personal hell, one that Dobrinsky reveled in making him revisit again and again. 

Stationary targets, piece of cake. Movable ones on the rifle range, ditto. It was only when it came to shooting at the lifelike targets during the sim runs here that Mac had a problem. Each and every shot he took at the supposed bad guys hit a good six inches to the right of center, most times missing the whole 'person' as well. 

* * *

Brow-beating, extra practice time, dry firing until blisters formed and broke on his palms, nothing worked, and Dobrinsky and the other instructors were getting close to throwing in the towel. Not that they'd mentioned it aloud, Mac had taken it upon himself to hack into the files one night on a whim and had discovered that little fact. 

Hey, maybe if he flunked out of this high-class spy school things would go back to normal—if they didn't ship him off to Michael's doorstep in a box with a gift bow on it anyway. The worst part was that he wasn't _trying_ to pull the shots, his aim just automatically shifted in that last millisecond before he pulled the trigger. 

_Guess I know where that little habit came from._ Pulling the trigger had become intertwined with the memory of the haunted look in Victor's piercing green eyes when the cop had been sure that Mac was about to kill him, and each time his finger tightened, all conscious control vanished. 

The wind gusted again, kicking up a whirlwind of dust and debris below, making Mac shiver again. It was time to be heading back. The instructors here delighted in waking them at ungodly hours of the morning and Mac had seen the sunrise more in the past couple of weeks then he ever wanted to for the rest of his life. If his luck was with him, there wouldn't be a pissed off Director or Victor waiting for him—but when had his luck been with him lately? 

Scaling the wall was a tempting thought, but what was the point? There wasn't anything around for miles, and the Director's dogs—both human and canine - would track him down. Not Mac's idea of a fun way to spend an evening, not in the least. 

Groaning slightly as his over-extended muscles protested being forced to move again, the young man started back toward his rooms, taking the shortcut across the obstacle course and through the pool house, wishing fervently that the freaks that had redesigned this place had left one of the hot tubs that had been here in place. 

There were no lights on in either of the two adjoining cottages, and Mac offered a silent prayer of thanks for that fact. He was sure he was going to have to deal with this mess sooner or later, but right now later had a much nicer ring to it. If boffing the queen bee made Victor happy then good for him. If it kept the older man out of his hair and off his back, even better. Why then, did that thought leave such a hollow feeling inside? 

Shouldering open his door, tossing his Walkman on the table, and stripping off his still damp shirt even as it closed behind him, Mac headed for the bathroom, hopping on one foot and then the other as he pulled off his shoes and socks. It was from this ignoble position that the thief first noticed his visitor. Shock caused him to lose his balance, and Mac sat down on the floor, hard. 

"Yau mo gau hai cho?" Surprise made Mac switch languages to Cantonese, but he recovered quickly, if with obvious annoyance at finding the last person he wanted to see tonight sitting in his room. 

"If you've come to explain to me about the birds and the bees, don't bother, Vice-man. I think I figured all that out a while ago." As he spoke, Mac pushed himself back to his feet, and glared at the intruder. "If you want to invite me to watch you and the she-devil, no thanks. The food here may be bad, but I really don't want to lose my last meal that way." 

Vic stared at the young man for a moment, listened to the caustic words he emitted, and sighed. It wasn't going to change. Nothing was ever going to change. "She didn't stay. Couldn't seem to get over the fact that she's not the one I want. Not that it matters to her, or to the person in question. This was a mistake. _We_ were a mistake. I'll try and talk to her again, figure out some way to get you out." 

Rising silently, his shoulders slumped in the first true defeat he felt in a long, long time, Vic let himself out of Mac's room. Just before he shut the door, he half turned and looked at the young thief. 

"You probably couldn't care less to hear this, and I don't really blame you. After all I've screwed up your life beyond belief, but... I didn't plan on it being like that," the older man confessed softly. "Rictor would have gone after you no matter what. She just _wanted_ things too badly, and rolling you would have given her them. I said yes to the assignment because I hoped I could screw it up enough that she wouldn't get what she wanted. No one deserves what she did to you, and I hope she's rotting in whatever hell the Director could come up with for what she did." 

Turning away again, Vic began to shut the door behind him. "I didn't plan on falling for you either, baby," he managed to get out as the door shut behind him. Grabbing his new leather jacket off the chair where he'd thrown in, Vic walked out the front door of his cottage and made his way over to the administration offices of the facility. Dobie would be there. Dobie was always there. Maybe he and his ex-partner could get blinding drunk together. Just like old times. Before Mac Ramsey. 

* * *

Scarcely believing what he had just witnessed, Mac stared at the door that had effectively just shut Victor Mansfield out of his life. He should be elated, ecstatic, but, as he heard the soft sound of the cottage's outer door closing, the only emotion that Mac could dredge up was a sick feeling of loss. 

He should go after the cop, demand an explanation for the quietly spoken words that had ripped a hole through Mac's already shredded defenses, leaving him wounded and confused. If he had any sense, he would do it, if only to put an end to all this mess, but Mac found he couldn't. He knew where Vic was going—to visit Dobrinsky—and the thief knew he wasn't up to dealing with both of them at once right now. 

There were times that he hated everything about this place, including himself for shooting off his mouth when he should have shut up and walked away from it all. If one more person called him 'kid', 'junior', or 'Macky', Mac sometimes thought that he would blow their brains out—not that he'd come close to hitting them, what with his little problem and all. At least with the Tangs he'd been treated like an adult and an asset, not like a wet behind the ears baby who had been brought into the fold out of pity. Expendable, that's what he was. Train him and toss him out for cannon fodder, not good for anything else. 

Rolling the smooth metal of his piercing against the roof of his mouth to try and calm his thoughts, Mac stripped off the rest of his clothes, leaving them where they lay as he walked into the bathroom, stepping into the shower without even waiting for the water to heat up. The cold spray cleared his mind somewhat and, as it warmed up, Mac leaned against the cool tile, wishing he could cry, or scream, or something, anything to relieve the pressure that was building up inside of him, fighting for release. 

Ever since the debacle half a year ago, it was as if he had undergone an emotional abortion. Everything but anger, fear and pain had been ripped out of him and left in a bloody mess on the floor of Victor's condo. Having lost all that, was it a wonder that he continued to snipe at the older man? That he took advantage of every opportunity to make him miserable? That he... was so damn jealous of the idea that Vic might have been with the Director and was even now with Dobrinsky that he couldn't see straight? 

They couldn't talk, that was what it boiled down to, and Mac knew the blame for that was mostly his. Fight, trade insults, bitch, oh yeah, no problem with any of those things, it was just when it came to exchanging any kind of normal conversation that there was a definite lapse. 

There had to be some way to make this work, _he_ had to find some way to get past all the anger inside to do it. Mac knew there was nothing else out there for him, and that thought terrified him—especially considering he might just have pushed Victor past his breaking point tonight. He couldn't be alone, he needed somewhere to belong, even if it was in some sick, twisted organization like the Agency seemed to be. And, most of all, he didn't _want_ to be alone, he wanted... 

He wanted Victor—and badly. Not just for the sex, but for who he was, a battered but not beaten icon of what was good in the world, a bulwark against the insanity crashing in around them. 

Climbing out of the shower and shutting off the water, Mac slowly toweled himself dry, rolling this new-found information around in his head, mulling it over. By the time he had pulled on his clothes—tan linen pants and a slate blue shirt that, although not quite what he used to wear back in Hong Kong, gave him a greater sense of self then the grunge look he had adopted on the streets—Mac had come to a decision. 

He grabbed the former cop's leather jacket, the same one he'd stolen that first night, and pulled it on, then stopped and dug in the battered backpack that was his only remaining link to his former life. Pulling three worn pictures out of one of the compartments, Mac slipped them into his pocket, and left his rooms, walking around the outside of the cottages to sit on Victor's steps, waiting for the older man's return. 

The starlight was bright enough for him to see the photos he'd brought along. Mac studied the images of his mother, his adopted father and foster sister, wondering just what advice they would give him if they could speak. 

* * *

Vic trudged wearily up the path to his temporary home a few hours later. Halfway to Dobrinsky's he'd veered to the left and entered the training facility. He suddenly realized he was falling back into the destructive pattern he'd been after Mac had bolted that first, fateful time—losing himself in alcohol to dull the pain. He wasn't going back to being that person again, not even for Mac. Victor didn't particularly like that man, the harsh, abrasive man who needed booze to help him sleep. He wasn't an alcoholic yet—but he'd come damn close, and that thought terrified him. Vic was used to being in control of his life and himself. Towards the end it was the alcohol that had been more in control. 

But no more, this was a new life and Vic was determined to start over right, no matter who he was working for or the fact that these people now owned his very soul. Vic was going to be the man he used to be—the one who believed in the rules, who believed that there was justice in the world. The fresh-faced cop he'd been when he first picked up his badge, a little older, a little more bloody for his battles, but with his ideals _and_ his morals still intact. 

So instead of joining Dobrinsky and losing himself inside a bottle, Victor went to one of the facility's training salles and tried to find himself instead. One of his instructors happened to be up—the one giving him a crash course in tae-kwan-do—and for three hours Vic got tossed, thrown, pinned, and basically beaten bloody—but he felt better than he had leaving his rooms earlier. His mind was clearer, more at peace with himself, and while his body ached—ached that was an understatement! he was in agony—he felt cleaner inside than he had in six months. All the negatives were purged and although most of the positives in his life were chancy at best, they were still better than being lost. A small smile broke out on his battered face. It was a step—and one in the right direction. 

The smile and the sudden burst of humor were short lived as he rounded the bend and caught sight of Mac sitting on his doorstep, waiting. Bracing himself for yet another round of verbal sparring, Vic continued home. 

"Mac..." he started, his throat catching a bit as his 'partner' was revealed to him in the moonlight. Oh god, his baby's face alone could break hearts. "If you really wanna go another round can you at least wait until I've had a hot shower? I'm in desperate need of some heat on these muscles. You can yell at me all you want, in any language you want, when I get done, but at least let me feel human again before you start in," Vic requested brusquely. He moved past the younger man and into his cottage, every muscle tensing when he heard the younger man follow him in. Bad move. 

Mac opened his mouth, ready to respond to the other man's clipped tone with a rush of anger, but he stopped, reminding himself of all the soul-searching he'd done over the past three hours. Attacking Victor once again wouldn't accomplish anything, especially his goal of trying to reach some kind of peace with the older man. They were in this together, it was time for Mac to act like it. 

Vic's back protested violently, reminding him that although he was still in his prime, he was no longer as limber as he used to be. Muscles screamed and seized, and his back spasmed, drawing a painful groan from him involuntarily. 

"Fuuuuuck," he bit out, bracing himself against the wall to allow the worst of it to pass. "On second thought, Ramsey, I'm in no condition to be able to defend myself against you tonight—mind if we postpone this until morning? With that, Vic began to gingerly strip out of his jacket and shirt, revealing the reddened welts where various weapons had managed to strike him or where he'd been thrown one too many times. Stumbling slightly, he made his way to the bathroom, not noticing when or if Mac had left. His only concern was getting under the stinging spray of hot water and trying to relieve the ache in his bones 

"Just my luck, not only do I have a sadistic boss, I have sadistic trainers. Well I always thought justice was divine, here's my proof," he half chuckled, half moaned to himself as he stepped under the steaming water with a heartfelt groan of gratitude. 

* * *

Jesus, just what had Mansfield been doing while he was gone? As he asked himself that question, Mac's forehead creased in a worried frown, his eyes cataloging each of the welts and bruises that Vic had acquired since last they had spoken. Unaware that he had moved, the thief reached up a hand to touch one of the marks, halting only inches from his goal, close enough to feel the heat coming from Victor's body. 

"Victor," he began, sighing when the other man either didn't hear him, or didn't care to answer as he went into the bathroom. A few seconds later the shower turned on, leaving it up to Mac's imagination to fill in the details as to what was going on in there and unfortunately, his imagination seemed to be in overdrive at the moment. 

"This can't wait until the morning." Okay, so walking in on Vic in the shower probably wasn't a good move, but that didn't mean that Mac couldn't do something while he was waiting. Giving the closed door a final look, Mac slipped back into his cottage, gathered up what medical supplies he could find, then reentered Vic's rooms to wait. 

As he arranged the ointments and salves he had brought on the bedside table, Mac tried to piece together just what he wanted to say. Something had changed in Victor while he had been gone. The man who had returned to the cottages wasn't the feral, sexual being Mac had met that first night, nor was he the bitter, hard, man on the edge who he had grown accustomed to these past weeks. He was somehow more settled, calmer, and the thief found himself drawn to that even more then he had been to the other sides of the ex-cop. 

The noise from the shower subsided, and Mac took up a position next to the doorway, catching Vic's arm as the older man exited the small room, clad only in a towel. 

"Just let me say what I have to, then I'll go," Mac promised, holding up his free hand to forestall any argument or rebuttal. Seeing wary agreement in Vic's verdant eyes, Mac nodded, then urged the other man toward the bed. "And to make it worth your while, I'll take care of your back while I talk, okay?" 

"Okay," Vic replied quietly as he sank down onto the mattress with a tiny groan. The heat of the shower had loosened up his muscles once more and he was actually feeling kind of good again—and Mac _wanted_ to talk. Maybe things weren't as grim as he thought they might be. "Just... no fighting, please Mac? I'm so tired of fighting with you. It hurts to much ba..." the older man bit off the rest of his sentence, remembering that Mac hated Vic calling him that. When the younger man didn't snap out a retort, Vic breathed a soft sigh of relief. Maybe things were actually kinda good. 

Then he felt Mac's hands on him, rubbing salve into the more reddened areas, and kneading the stiff muscles, and for the first time in six months Vic felt himself respond to being touched. Fuck, it felt so good, having Mac touch him again. Groaning gratefully, he arched back into the strong, agile hands working on him, and waited to hear what the younger man would say. 

"No fighting," Mac agreed quietly, scooping out a bit more of the Tiger Balm ointment and working it into the mass of knotted muscle at the top of Victor's left shoulder as he tried to organize his thoughts. Okay, start simple first. 

"I'm sorry," he sighed, keeping his eyes centered on Victor's back so that he had some kind of focus. "I know none of this was your idea or what you wanted and that I've been a shit about it. Here I am bitching about people treating me like a kid when I haven't done anything to dissuade them of that idea." Mac took a deep breath and went on, forcing himself to continue, to speak around the constriction in his throat. "All that stuff you said that night in your apartment, it's true. If I had done what I was supposed to, stayed where I was told to, none of this ever would have happened. You would still be a cop, still be happy with your life. Father always said that I was too rash and impulsive, well look where it got me—look where it got both of us." 

Mac paused at that and swiped the back of his hand over his face, not noticing the dampness that clung to it. For him, the world had narrowed down to the expanse of tanned, bruised skin under him, and the torturous confession that was spilling from his soul. "I'm a crook. You know it, I know it and the Director knows it. That's what she's going to use me for and that's okay with me. It's what I know, all I know. It's what I was trained for since I can remember." 

There was a slight tensing in Victor's back and Mac dug his fingers in a bit harder to silence whatever the other man had been going to say before he could speak. "I also know what my father was, but if I ever hear you talk about him like you did again I'll—" What? He couldn't shoot the other man, he'd already proved that. Forget the threats, there was no point in making them anyway, he couldn't hurt Vic any more no matter what happened. "He may have done everything you said and more, but he also was more of a father to me then my biological one ever was. He took me in when he could have had me shot and dumped in the ocean. Hell, that's what I expected when I found out I had picked the pocket of the Tang Godfather, that's what I was waiting for. Instead, he gave me a home and a family." 

"Doesn't matter any way. He's dead, Li Ann's dead, only Michael's left and he is going to be dead if I ever get near him again. He blames me for Father dying, but he _killed_ Li Ann, strangled her." Mac choked off a sob, his harsh gasps for breath communicating themselves to the older man through the shaking of his hands. "Guess that's my fault too though, she stayed in contact with me and when he found out..." 

"Think you should be able to sleep now, the worst of the knots are gone." Here Mac closed his eyes and slowly sat back. "Maybe you should talk to the Director about another 'partner'. I tend to get people around me killed lately." Feeling drained by his outpouring of grief and anguish, the young man pulled off the leather jacket that he had kept on through the massage and laid it on the bed beside Victor. "Sorry I took this, it's a little worse for wear, but at least it's still in one piece." 

Vic's hand shot out, lightening fast, and snagged the younger man's wrist. He was sitting and had Mac in his lap, holding the younger man tight, before either man really had time to register it. Vic's strong arms wrapped around his young partner. "I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry," Vic whispered harshly, placing tiny kisses on Mac's head and neck. 

"I don't want anyone else but you for my partner Mac—in any capacity. God, I've missed you, so damned much—especially when you were right in front of me and I couldn't, I don't know, beg you to forgive me for ruining your life?" Victor choked, holding Mac even tighter. "Just don't leave me again, okay. The first time was hard enough. I don't think I could handle you leaving me again," the older man begged softly, meaning every word. 

A series of small tremors ran through Mac's body, first at being caught that way, and then by the quiet intensity of Victor's words. His posture was stiff at first, but slowly Mac relaxed until he wasn't pulling at Vic's arms any longer. At the feel of the ex-cop's lips against his face, Mac sagged against Vic's chest, undone by that small show of tenderness and the other man's seemingly heartfelt words. 

"Your father is off limits from now on Mac, I promise. It's hard for me to equate the criminal I knew with the man who raised you. But seeing how you turned out I have to believe that there was more to him than I ever saw, otherwise you wouldn't be... you," Vic trailed off, not quite ready to say what he really felt about the young thief, how important Mac had become in the span of a few weeks. It would take some getting used to, this idea that maybe Mac was it for him—the one he'd really been looking for all his life—home. 

The one thing that made Vic's blood run cold though, was the idea that Michael Tang would be ruthless enough to strangle his own sister just for staying in contact with Mac. The very thought that the brother would be psychotic enough to do that terrified him. And drove home the thought that Michael would probably stop at nothing to get to Mac. The bastard would have to go through Vic first though. He was not about to let that sick fuck anywhere near his baby. No chance in hell. "I promise Mac, I'll look out for you. Won't let anyone hurt you again, baby," the older man swore, cradling his... whatever Mac was to him, it was permanent. That much he knew. 

"We're in this together Mac, all the way. I'm not walking out on you, and I'm sure as hell not letting you run on me. This is a partnership kiddo—equal, 50-50. You're not just a crook, you're the guy who's gonna have my back. The one I'm going to trust with my life—trust to keep me that way. No one else I'd rather have there either. I think we're being trained to balance each other. My background let's me do the investigative, yours the intuitive, that sort of thing. It's gonna work out Mac, we're gonna work out. It'll just take some time, is all." 

"And Mac? The jacket is yours now, I want you to have it, okay?" Releasing the younger man for a moment, Vic put Mac on the bed beside him, a hand tracing the curve of his partner's cheek. "Stay with me tonight—just to sleep Mac, I promise. I just need... I need to hold you, hear your heart beating, know you're with me. Please?" he asked softly, laying himself bare and exposed, hoping that this was truly a second chance for both of them. 

* * *

Mac just sat there for a moment, staring blindly at Vic, trying to comprehend the enormity of what the other man had just told him. Victor trusted him. Victor Mansfield, moral, upstanding, good-guy crime fighter, trusted _him_ , Mackenzie Ramsey, scheming, conniving, sneak-thief. It didn't seem possible, but there it was, as plain as the soft leather of the jacket Vic offered, as real as the light pressure of the older man's hand against his cheek. Mac made a vow to himself in that moment, that he would do anything and everything in his power to live up to the faith Vic had placed in him. 

What this was, where it was going, he had no idea, but Mac knew that he didn't want to go, couldn't leave the softly beseeching tone and the naked regret in Vic's eyes. "Partners?" he whispered, trying the feel of the word out as it flowed across his tongue. "I trust you to watch my back too, know you've been doing it as much as I'd let you from the start." Mac rubbed his hand over the jacket, then looked Victor in the eye, his own expression half-embarrassed, half-hopeful. 

"I'll stay if you really want me to. Might not want it later though, I'm not the quietest sleeper around, haven't been since... Well, in a while anyway." His gaze dropped to the sliver ring threaded through Victor's nipple and sucked in a breath as a flash of heat spiked through his body. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all, not if just that sight did that to him, definitely not if Vic intended on going to bed in just that towel. 

"I really want you to stay, Mac," Vic smiled. "I just gotta... I'll be right back," the older man mumbled, as he stood and quickly grabbed a pair of boxers and disappeared back into the bathroom to change. Vic was so used to sleeping in the nude that it hadn't occurred to him until Mac's eyes had drifted downwards that he was less than suitably dressed—especially if he was going to stick to the nothing but sleeping promise he'd made. Even if it killed him, which it probably would. 

Oddly enough, the thing that was turning Vic on the most was completely innocuous —well almost completely. It was that damned tongue piercing Mac now sported. The ex-cop couldn't believe how fascinated he was by it, how a flash of that round silver ball on the younger man's tongue could get him instantly hard. It was downright embarrassing! He felt like a kid again, instant erection whenever he was around someone attractive. 

Of course it didn't help that Victor who, prior to meeting Mr. Ramsey, had had a fairly active sex life, had been celibate for the past six months. Of course he hadn't had the inclination or desire either, but why did his libido have to return now—and with such a vengeance? 

Shaking his head and trying desperately to think of cold things, Vic emerged from the bathroom, to find the room dark, Mac's clothes folded neatly over the back of a chair, and a comforting lump already occupying his bed. He stood there for a few seconds, the light of the bathroom providing dim illumination, and wondered at how _right_ this felt, seeing Mac in his bed. Maybe even _their_ bed. Victor liked the sound of that, _their_ bed. A bloom of heat appeared in his stomach whenever he thought of he and Mac being a _them_ , a couple. It just felt... right. 

Turning the light off, Vic crawled into bed next to the other man and tentatively put his arm around Mac's waist, breathing a sigh of relief when the younger man snuggled back against him. Placing a gentle kiss on the Mac's head, Vic fell into his first untroubled sleep in six months. 

* * *

First there was warmth, then a scent that was both comforting and arousing, then a pressure against the length of his whole body, one that brought Mac from the vestiges of sleep into a drowsy, semi-conscious, state with a low murmur of pleasure. _Mmm, now this is the way to wake up,_ he thought sleepily, nuzzling his face into the warm, stubbled neck next to it. 

Mac drifted a little more awake at that, and came to the realization as to just who was the owner of the lean, cut body he was sprawled across, the one his hips were arching into even now. If it hadn't felt so good, Mac probably would have had second thoughts about it, but the reality of Victor next to him after the months of denied dreams was too much. Past caring if it was a good idea or not, the thief turned his face until his lips brushed against Vic's neck, flicking his tongue out to taste the other man's sleep-warmed skin, purring at the flavor. 

Victor came awake the rasp of a tongue against his skin and the softly muttered purr of a voice that had wrapped itself around his pleasure centers months ago. He instinctively arched up into the touch and threaded his fingers through the fine silk hair tickling his chest. He felt smooth, warm metal caress his shoulder and moaned softly. "Soooo good, baby!" 

The rough abrasion of chest hair teased his sensitive left nipple and he pushed harder into the feeling, relishing the slight burn it brought to his pierced flesh. His hand slid down soft skin and underneath the loose waistband of a pair of jersey shorts. It was only when a straining erection began to hump into his leg that Victor finally woke up—and found himself with an armful of squirming, aroused Mac Ramsey. 

"Mac... baby, please!" Vic groaned as he tried to get the younger man to stop his insidious attack. The younger man patently ignored him and finally Vic had to wrench himself away, practically throwing himself out of bed. 

"We—we _can't_ do this Mac," he panted unevenly, his chest heaving as if he'd just finished a fucking ten mile sprint. God that mouth! That sweet, lush..." We just... I'm _not_ going to take advantage of you a second time Mac. I'm not gonna chance you leaving me again. You need to be sure baby. _Very_ sure that this is what you want. _I'm_ what you want. I don't think I could handle losing you a second time." 

With that Vic was out of bed and in the bathroom, snicking the door lock behind him. "Shower. God I need a fucking ice-cold shower. Baby," he groaned softly, his hand stroking the wooden door longingly, as if it were the one he really wanted to be caressing. "Need you Mac..." 

* * *

Mac heard the bathroom door shut, but continued to lie where he was, face down on the mattress, desperately wishing he still had Vic's body as a buffer between his aching erection and the cool cotton. "God, Vice-man, are you trying to kill me or what?" he moaned, rolling onto his back and trying to ignore the throbbing bulge that pushed at the loose fabric of his shorts. 

Okay, so maybe it hadn't been the best idea, but god it felt so good, waking up next to Vic, feeling the older man's enthusiastic response—until, that is, he woke up enough to know what was going on. Flickers of doubt skittered over Mac's emotions, plucking those that were still bruised and raw as the result of the turns his life had taken. 

"No." Growling out that single word, Mac swung out of the bed, pushing aside the nagging voices that wanted him to believe that it was still some kind of game, that once the Agency got what they wanted out of him he'd be cut loose again. If it hadn't been for the way Vic had looked as he backed toward the bathroom, and the conflict that was evident in every line of the other man's face, Mac might have started to believe the lies his subconscious was concocting. But Vic... He couldn't be that good an actor, the minute twitches of his fingers as he restrained himself, the sweep of his coal dark lashes as he confessed to his desires but controlled them through the imposition of rules, those told the real story. 

Just remembering it was enough to make Mac want to howl aloud, jimmy the lock and slip into the shower with his partner, to inform him in no uncertain terms that yes he did want this. But what was this? If both of them managed to graduate from this hellhole, they'd be work partners. Obviously there was also a visceral attraction between them, but could they survive a relationship based simply on those two things? From the sounds of it, Victor wanted more from him then just something casual and, Mac was coming to realize, he did too. Maybe it was better to wait, to let things settle out before taking that next step again. 

But that didn't mean the wait was going to be easy. 

With a disconsolate sigh and one last, longing look toward the locked door, Mac gathered up his clothes and trudged toward his own rooms. Maybe after a cold shower, he'd be able to deal with the ramifications of all these changes a little better. 

God, he hoped so or he was going to go off his fucking rocker. 

Thankfully, the frigid shower helped restore things to their proper perspective and by the time Mac stepped out of his own bathroom, he was feeling somewhat more centered. The rest of his morning routine passed in a blur though as Mac's thoughts bounced from yesterday's events, to the increasing awareness that he was starving, to pondering what hellacious training exercises would be thrown at them today. 

Them. Mac repeated the word to himself, realizing that this was the first time he had paired himself and Victor in that way. Priorities had shifted, dividing lines had been redrawn, and while Mac still was unsure as to how they all would solidify, he was hyper-aware of the fact that he had a partner, someone to watch out for him and to expect the same in return. 

It was different then the Family. He, Li Ann and Michael had been trained together for so long that they could anticipate each other's reactions to any new situation. There was also the fact that while most of the jobs they had carried off had been highly profitable, they also had been relatively low risk ones. Their father wasn't going to hazard his children's lives doing a job that another of his specialists could pull off. 

If things had gone differently, that would have changed, but now... 

Mac gave his head a vicious shake, banishing the memories to the past where they belonged. Glancing at the neat, type-written schedule that had appeared overnight on the small desk in the outer room, the thief groaned. A full morning of policy and procedures followed by an afternoon on the obstacle course with the promised lock session thrown in for good measure. Just another day of fun and games at the Agency training facility. 

"I want a vacation," Mac muttered, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, his sneakers and a loose tee shirt. No point in wearing anything better, there wasn't time to change between the classwork and the killer course. But maybe, maybe today it would be better. As it was, Mac felt as if an anvil that had been locked to his ankle was gone and that was a good start. 

"Victor?" he called, rapping on the door between their rooms, chuckling at that fact when he had never bothered with that bit of courtesy before. "You have time to get something to eat before we get thrown in the mill again?" 

* * *

Vic stood looking at the bed he'd shared with Mac the night before, a silly grin plastered on his face. Which in itself was surprising considering how cold that damn shower had been in order to wrestle his body back into some semblance of control. Part of him could hardly believe last night had happened, that Mac had slept curled safe in his arms and had woken aroused and needing him. Him, Victor Mansfield, the guy that had messed up the younger man's life. Was it any wonder he felt a little silly? 

It was like an invisible yoke had been lifted off his shoulders, he felt lighter —and happier than he had in a long time, despite his current employment woes. All because Mac Ramsey had trusted him enough to stay the night. 

The knock on the door roused him from his reverie and the sound of the younger man's voice sent gleeful shivers up his spine. Was this what real happiness was? Finally registering Mac's words, Vic walked over, opened the door... and hauled the younger man into his arms and proceeded to devour his mouth hungrily. 

"Wish I could have the breakfast I really want," he murmured, eyes dark with need, when he finally broke off the kiss. "But I'll settle for having the morning's swill in the dining room as long as I can have it with you." Vic knew it sounded corny, but it was true. He suddenly wanted to share everything with the younger man, even something as lame as eating breakfast together. Just as long as it was with Mac. 

The sappy grin was back as he ran a finger along Mac's jawline before turning and grabbing both brown leather jackets that he'd tossed onto the bed when he'd made it. Handing Mac his old one, he shrugged into the newer and smiled. "Shall we go see what nightmarish foodstuff they have for us this morning?" 

_How does he do that?_ Mac wondered, trying desperately to divert his thoughts from the direction they wanted to go in after that greeting—namely, straight to the gutter. The kiss had been totally unexpected and therefore all the better because Mac found that having a mouthful of Victor when they were both awake and aware was a fine treat indeed. Unfortunately, his body was too into it and the young thief was now sporting a very noticeable bulge in his sweatpants once again. 

_Okay, I'm a teenager, I'm supposed to be horny but goddamn, if he keeps springing shit like that on me, I may explode before we even touch each other again!_ "Breakfast, yeah..." Mac's voice had a definite dazed quality to it, and he leaned his face into Vic's light touch, pouting slightly at the loss. "Food is good." 

Victor chuckled at that and Mac stuck his tongue out at the older man in retaliation. The defiant gesture was rewarded when he saw Vic's eyes turn dark as his entire being focused on the stud piercing Mac's tongue. "See something you like?" the thief asked, feeling a comforting warmth that had nothing to do with desire, but everything to do with contentment, curl up deep down inside him as if it was settling in for a long stay. 

"Yeah," Vic smiled softly. "See someone I think I like _a lot_ ," the older man continued, deliberately misinterpreting what Mac had said. "In fact, I'm pretty sure what I feel for said someone goes way beyond like. How far beyond, I'm not really sure yet, but... I definitely like the way it makes me feel, and can't wait to see where this is gonna take us." 

Snaking a hand behind the Mac, Vic laid a solid swat on the younger man's... god, _perfect_ ass. Not the most intelligent move when that brief touch, coupled with Mac's flaunting his tongue piercing, left him aching and needy. He had to get out of there before he tossed his good intentions out the window and threw Mac on the bed to ravish his young lover. "C'mon _kid_ ," he gruffed, "let's get a move on before Dobie sends the dogs, or worse the Director, after us." 

How the hell was he gonna survive not touching Mac until both men were sure that this was where they wanted to be? Fuck, he had to be insane to suggest waiting, but... the look of gratitude in the younger man's eyes when he'd suggested they wait, combined with a smoldering look only enforced Vic's convictions. Mac wasn't the only one who needed to make decisions. 

Vic had to decide if this was truly what he wanted, and once he'd made the decision be willing to commit to it. He was 28, not old by most standards, but old enough that he knew he wanted his next relationship to be long term—as in life long. He didn't want to play the games anymore—unless they were played with his life partner. 

Shit. 

So much for having to come to a decision. It seemed that he'd made the decision without even being consciously aware of it. Life partner. Mac. Victor Mansfield, heretofore unacknowledged bisexual man, who lived and breathed being a cop so much that he'd submersed that part of him that didn't fit behind the blue shield, was committed to having a relationship with a man. A young man who was the almost same age as his kid sister. His pretty baby. 

"Whaddya say we go show this agency just how much trouble they're in now that we're partners, eh partner?" 

"They have no idea what they're in for," Mac grinned, rubbing his stinging backside as he proceeded Victor out the door and into the early morning sunshine. Birds were singing, bees buzzing, and brightly colored flowers danced in the cool breeze. It was like something out of a fucking Disney movie and all Mac could do was laugh as Vic caught up to him and the two fell into step together. "No idea at all." 

* * *

Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: R   
Status: New, complete   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] and [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby 3   
Website: <http://thesleepydragon.com/>   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: A special thanks to LeFey for letting us use the idea of Section Six, and for Ori for all her great whip-cracking ... err, feedback! ~AND~ Translation: Yau mo gau hai cho? = What the fucking hell?. Summary: Two weeks into their Agency training, Victor and Mac are more then a little on edge, what will it take to cause them to crack?   
---


	4. IV: Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part IV  
Persuasion**

"Look Ace, the kid can't do it. He pulls his shots the last second. It's not like he doesn't have good hand-eye or can't make the targets. If he didn't damn well pull back he'd nail those targets dead on. Shit, the kid would probably be as good as you _if_ he'd stop fucking up. Psych says it's trauma making him do it. And we both know what trauma. You broke him, you fix him, otherwise he's gonna get washed out and that means Hong Kong," Dobrinsky told the younger man seriously. 

"He washes out he stays with me, Dobie, " Vic replied ominously. "You or the Director come near him and it won't be pretty. But he won't wash out. I'll make damn sure of it!" Slamming out of Dobrinsky's office, Vic stalked towards the training salle where Mac was practicing some of the more advanced forms of Wing Chun, a style of Kung Fu he was especially adept in. Mac was going to learn how to fire a weapon without pulling, and Victor Mansfield was just the man to teach him. 

* * *

Dobrinsky smiled and picked up the phone. "Yeah, the threat worked beautifully... Yeah I know—they are so obvious to everyone but themselves. The trainers have a bet going on about who's gonna jump who first, and how long the just holding each other rule is gonna last. What? Okay you're on—for how much—$500—damn, you're sure of yourself. Yes ma'am will put it down on the bet sheet." 

* * *

Vic stormed into the gym just as Mac was stepping out of the change rooms, freshly showered and looking—god, looking so fucking good it made the older man's mouth water. It was getting harder and harder to resist Mac's sleepy wake-ups. His mouth was kitten-soft against Victor's skin, and his morning shadow an arousing abrasion. Vic and cold showers had become good friends over the last week and he was despising it. But it was a small price to pay for having Mac back with him, in their bed, being able to hold the young man, cuddling and kissing him. Oh god, the feel of that piercing caressing the roof of his mouth was nearly enough to make him come by that alone. What would it feel like on the rest of his body, on his cock? 

Biting back a pained moan, Vic grabbed the younger man by the hand and began dragging him down to one of the shooting gallery's. "C'mon baby, it's time for a private lesson." 

* * *

Even a week ago, the appearance of his partner in the gym would have surprised Mac, but now he greeted Victor with an easy grin—one that turned smoldering as he noted the way Vic's eyes lingered on his lips. Thank god for these signs that the older man was as on edge as he was, otherwise Mac thought he might go insane because of this damn rule. Okay, he could understand it, with all the mess they'd been through, jumping each other because they felt like it might not be the best move. But that didn't help when he woke up each morning and all he could see, feel, hear and smell was Victor. 

Laughing quietly when Vic grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of the building, Mac lengthened his stride so that he was walking alongside the older man and not tagging along behind. "Private lesson? That sounds promising, but aren't we going the wrong way? The cottage is back that way." As he spoke, Mac pointed in the opposite direction, hoping against hope that Vic would suddenly change directions. When he didn't, the thief let out a near silent groan, knowing where they were headed. 

"It's no good, Victor. Give me a plain target I'm ten for ten, but put something human shaped up and I can't do it. Not quite what you want from someone who is supposed to be watching your back, I know, and I am trying to get over it, it's just..." Mac sighed, thinking back to the report he had read during one of his extra-curricular web runs. "This their way of telling me fix it or I'm out?" 

Vic debated about lying to the younger man—for about two seconds. Mac had been lied to enough in his short life and he wasn't about to add to it. Mac was his partner, and partners trusted each other. Sighing heavily, he stopped, and without thinking about it, caressed Mac's cheek, not realizing just how much, or how often he touched the younger man. 

"Dobie had a little talk with me. There's—concern, Mac. I got told I broke you, so I had to fix you and there was mention of Hong Kong again. Not," he spoke quickly, forestalling the younger man from interrupting, "not that I'm going to let that happen. No matter what, your home is with me—if you want it that way, I mean," Vic continued hesitantly, still not willing to push the younger man too far too fast. 

"But it was a warning, an indirect one because I get the feeling both Dobie and the Director like you. So as Mt. Baldy suggested, I broke you so now I'm going to help _you_ fix yourself. Trust me?" At his partner's hesitant nod, Victor continued on to the shooting gallery, Mac walking not so calmly beside him. He would get the younger man to shoot. Even if it meant using dirty tricks and persuasion to do so. He wasn't about to lose Mac, as a partner or as a potential lover. Mac was his now, end of story, and Victor Mansfield always took care of and protected what was his. 

Emotions spiked within the younger man although he tried to present a calm face to the world as they walked along. The threat of being sent to Hong Kong no longer carried the weight that it did before, it was the idea of being sent away from _Victor_ that had Mac in a panicky sweat. Part of him worried that he was getting too dependent on the older man, while the rest of him simply acknowledged that beside Victor was where Mac belonged, and where he would stay. Partners, back up, support, in all areas of their lives. 

"So, where do we start?" Mac asked quietly when they stopped at the gun locker and he had extracted his weapon, inspected it, and slid a full clip into place, all with the ease of long practice, but an air of resignation as well. "Want to see the infamous Ramsey dust mote targeting so you know what you have to deal with?" 

Vic suddenly came to a decision. "What we don't start with is this," Vic replied gently, taking the weapon out of the other man's hands. "This isn't where we need to be right now. C'mon." With that, Vic was leading Mac out of the shooting range again, much to the surprise of the people watching in Dobrinsky's office. 

* * *

"What the hell's he doing? The kid's problem is shooting and he's taking him out of there?" Dobie was incredulous. 

"Like, you know Vic, always doin' things like his own way and stuff?" Jackie Janzyck chirped up, snapping her gum loudly. 

"Yeah but..." 

"Watch my angels, watch and learn..." came the smoky purr from the back of the room. 

* * *

Vic took Mac's hand and headed outside. He bypassed the walk through and the shooting range, continued on past the training buildings and the cottages, until the two of them were walking hand in hand through the thick stand of trees that was used as the paintball range—an area Mac had yet to be introduced to. A place where they gave you moving, live, targets and you had to take them down. But for now it was quiet, as Vic knew it would be. 

Ambling along, ignoring the curious looks that his partner was giving him, Vic kept moving until he found what he was looking for. A secluded area bracketed off by trees, with a fallen log to sit on. Sitting, he pulled the other man down next to him, then straddled the log so Mac could have a good look at what he was going to do. 

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but Vic pressed a finger against those soft lips and shook his head. He then shrugged out of his jacket and, despite the cold, stripped out of his denim shirt and the gray tee-shirt underneath. Vic just sat there, in the cool spring air, his chest bare, his nipple ring glinting in the dappled sunlight, letting Mac look his fill. 

"See, no bullet holes." 

"Yeah..." Mac answered slowly, his forehead wrinkled with his perplexed frown. Not that he minded the chance to stare at Vic's half-bare bod, he just wasn't sure why they had to come out here to do it and what it had to do with his targeting problem. 

A stray sunbeam glinted off the bright silver ring dangling against Vic's chest, and the cool breeze drew his nipples up into tight nubs, ones that seemed to be urging Mac to lean in and taste them. 

Giving a soft groan, Mac dragged his gaze upward, his dark chocolate eyes now holding a mixture of confusion and barely repressed desire. "I'd rather keep it that way too." Just the thought of Vic being injured, especially because of some lapse in his skills, was enough to squelch the flickering of need that had sprang up again. Mac looked away then, shifting his gaze to the shadowed anonymity of the woods around them, seeking a safe haven. "What is this place?" he asked after a moment, knowing it was part of the facility, but not the purpose it served. 

"Thank you for saying that, baby," Vic reached out and caressed his partner's face, ignoring the last question for now. "But if you don't want that to happen, you know what you gotta do. I _trust_ you Mac—with my life and... more," he managed to get out, taking the younger man's hand and placing it over his heart, and conversely the nipple ring as well. "I trust you to keep this safe—both physically and otherwise. No one else I'd trust to watch my back, just like I wouldn't trust anyone else to watch yours. We're a team, you and I. And whatever it takes to get you past whatever's stopping you from hitting a target, I'll do. Together Mac—I mean that." 

Vic pulled the younger man into his arms for a brief, breathless kiss, then let him go to shrug back into his tee shirt and denim shirt. "Okay, so... no agency shrinks, no Dobie, nothing but you and me. Let's try this again shall we?" Vic smiled a cocky half smile. "Wanna try the walk through without anyone watching? We can do it together. Or we can just talk for a while—screw the Agency and take the rest of the day for ourselves," Vic offered. Truth was, there was an ulterior motive. He wanted to distract and relax Mac. It wasn't _quite_ the way he wanted to relax the younger man, but it would have to do. 

If the Agency trainers couldn't get Mac to hit human targets with all their know-how and badgering and bullying, Victor wasn't about to go the same route. Maybe a little relaxation, a little distraction, a lot of snuggling - and then they'd try... preferably with Vic standing right behind the younger man to continue to distract him. 

A smile that didn't quite reach Mac's eyes curved his lips upward, and he arched an eyebrow at the older man. "You really think they're gonna let us slack off for a whole afternoon? I just can't picture that happening. Might as well try the walk through, you won't know how badly I'm broken until you see for yourself." With a sigh of resignation that was a trifle self-pitying, Mac started to stand, preparing himself for his upcoming failure. 

"Mackenzie Ramsey, you ever say that about yourself again, and I _will_ put you over my knee. Got it?" Vic nearly yelled, the muscles in his neck standing out in stark relief. "You are not, I repeat _not_ broken, dammit! You had one hell of a scare—and I'm betting that that night was the first time you ever fired a gun at a living target, if at all, am I right?" 

"Well guess what kiddo," Vic continued without waiting for an answer, "what you're going through is natural and normal—the fact that you can still even hold the damn weapon, let alone go ten for ten on targets is more than impressive. I probably couldn't have done it had been me, babe. Hell—I had nightmares for months the first time I had to shoot someone. And the first time I killed someone—the guy's face still haunts me. It's when it doesn't affect you—when you don't get the shakes after it's over or you don't feel remorse—that's when you gotta worry. What you're going through —it's human nature Mac." 

Victor pulled the younger man fully upright and wrapped him in a firm embrace. "I _know_ you'll have my back when the time comes, baby. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind. Until then, we'll get through this together, okay? 'Sides, I figure sooner or later it'll be my turn to fall apart—so next time you get to pick up the pieces. Deal?" 

"You try to put me over your damn knee and you'll be minus it as well as your balls," Mac spat, indignant at even the thought of that happening. He had enough fucking reminders of his age around here. He sure as shit didn't even need Victor or anyone even thinking of pulling that crap! 

It took a moment for Vic's next words to register, but once they did, Mac backed down a little, relaxing in the circle of Victor's arms. "I had to learn to shoot before I was allowed to go out on any jobs for the Tangs," he said quietly. "But no, I'd never had to point a gun at anyone before, let alone someone I... knew." Memories of that night chased themselves across Mac's mind, bringing shadows to his gaze at the thought of what might have happened. 

"I never meant to pull the trigger." His words were a husky whisper that carried with them a world of regret. "And I will get over it, not going to have anything else happen to you because of me." There was a new-found conviction in the young man's voice and he lifted his head to look Victor in the eyes. "I'm gonna be there for you, Vic, whenever and wherever you need me." 

Snaking a hand between their chests, Mac placed his palm on Vic's chest again, feeling the steady heartbeat the filled his ears each night vibrate against his skin. "So," he asked, taking a deep breath and trying to let the tension drain from his body, "how about we give this a try?" 

Vic smiled and covered his partner's hand with his own, ignoring the earlier diatribe for the moment. "I think I'm gonna need you forever partner, if you're up to it," the older man husked. Fighting back a lump in his throat, Vic blinked to clear suddenly misty eyes. 

"I'd say giving it another try is a good thing," he continued gruffly, bringing the younger man's hand away from his heart and up to his mouth so he could kiss Mac's palm. "And I know you didn't mean to pull the trigger, baby. I drove you to that and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it. I wouldn't hurt you for the world Mac, believe me. Your happiness and well being—they mean everything to me. Now more than ever." 

"I promise I'm not going anywhere ever again babe—partners from now on." 

Mac nodded shallowly, afraid to speak because of the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with running a fingertip over Vic's lips until he was sure his voice wouldn't crack. 

"Only one I want to be partners with. Only one I..." _trust_ he finished silently. "Need to forgive yourself, otherwise I won't be able to do it either—with myself I mean, not you. Don't blame you for any of it." The disjointed ramblings died off and Mac ducked his head, trying to smile. "I'm done babbling now, I hope anyway. Better get back to work or I'm gonna try to distract you and we know where that leads." _Right into the cold shower for both of us!_

Vic smiled, and squeezed the younger man's hand. "You distract me just by being here Mac, so it would be nothing new, baby," Vic admitted ruefully even as he pulled the younger man forward. "Not that I'm complaining—I like your kind of distraction. A lot!" 

Walking back to the street walk through, Vic ignored the quirked eyebrows from the trainers and other inmates of the Agency facility at the sight of the two of them casually strolling along, holding hands. _Get used to it guys,_ he thought with a grin, _'Cause I ain't letting this one go._

Once they got to the walk through, Vic booted up the program and watched Mac run through it once. Fuck, Dobie was right, he pulled his shots last second. But how to get him to get around the mental block he obviously had. There had to be some way... the dejected slump of Mac's shoulders broke his heart. He would get his partner over this come hell or... the Director. 

Having Mac circumvent the facility alarms was easy—he was definitely talented, Vic thought with a smug grin. Of course, the young man had been less than pleased with Vic waking him up at three in the morning to come to the shooting range for a little 'private' instruction. If the blue tinge to the air as Mac jibbered in Cantonese was any indication, less than pleased didn't even come close. 

But there was method to Vic's madness—which started with him keeping only the spotlights on and disabling the security cameras in the gallery. No prying eyes were allowed tonight. To that end, both the outer and inner doors were re-locked. So too was there a reason to his insistence on their apparel. Vic had only let Mac slip on a pair of track pants, sans boxers, and one of Vic's loose button down shirts. He wanted easy access for what he had in mind. 

Taking a fully loaded clip, he snapped it in place and pumped the load mechanism so that there was a bullet in the chamber. Unlatching the safety, he handed it to the younger man, and came to stand directly behind Mac, resting his head on the ex-thief's shoulder. "Let's try this again, shall we?" he purred, wrapping his arms around Mac's slender waist. 

Plainly not ready to be jollied out of his grump that easily, Mac grumbled a reply as he checked the gun over. One minute he'd been sound asleep, warm and comfortable wrapped around Victor, the next he was freezing his ass off, trying to wake up enough to circumvent the electronics on the door to the range when all he really wanted to do was rewind the night a half an hour and freeze it there. 

"Sure, why not. Maybe shooting when I'm zoned and frozen stiff might help my aim." Mac felt the slight shaking of Vic's body as the older man chuckled at that and reconsidered what he had said. Parts of him may have been tired and cold, but the side that was pressed against Vic was becoming more alert by the second and quite warm as well. "Or are you planning to do that from back there?" Mac asked, turning his head just enough to look at Vic's profile, groaning slightly when the proximity of the ex-cop's face gave him an excellent view of one verdant eye and the sultry lashes that framed it. 

With another, barely audible groan, Mac looked away, concentrating on the human shaped target in front of him. As he did so, his whole body stiffened, growing even more tense as the former thief raised his right hand and sighted down the pistol. 

Vic's hand slipped downward, to rest on the younger man's hip, well actually it was more like on his pelvic bone. He began to nibble on the younger man's ear lobe. "The whole point is not to be tense, baby. How can I relax you enough to make this work?" Vic husked, rasping his be-stubbled chin across the exposed flesh of Mac's neck. 

His hand began to stroke circular patterns on the younger man's flesh, as his other came up to steady the gun. "The whole idea of tonight is for you to point at the target and shoot. C'mon baby. Lemme see that big weapon of yours!" he teased gently. 

Mac squirmed a bit, not sure if he was trying to evade that slowly circling hand or get it closer to his now very awake and aware cock. "Keep that up and you're going to be seeing more of it then you bargained for," he joked back, though the words were tinged with a moan as Vic nipped harder at his ear. 

"Fine, fine we'll do it your way, just don't—god don't stop," Mac moaned, his head lolling back against Vic's shoulder, then coming upright once again when the older man growled out an answer. "Don't know why I'm going to hit the damn thing now when I couldn't when I was thinking straight..." Hardly aware of what he was doing, Mac aimed and squeezed the trigger, not even caring where the bullet went. 

"Not bad, babe, just a little off center. But next time keep your eyes focused, Mac. You don't focus and I stop," Victor cajoled. "Now you know you don't want me to stop," he continued, his other hand wrapping around Mac's hips to tease the other side of the younger man's body. 

Watching the younger man draw in a shaky breath and follow his instructions, he smiled. "Put the gun down Mac and look. You did it babe, a clean shot. Now that wasn't so hard," he snickered, "was it?" 

"I did it?" Mac blinked and stared at the target, for the moment forgetting the delicious way Vic's hands were roaming over his abdomen. "I did it." His voice was soft with wonder and the young man stared down at the gun in his hand before switching the safety on and setting it on the shelf next to them. "We did it." 

Turning his head, Mac looked at Victor, his eyes darkening as he registered the fact that the other man's hands were continuing their circular sweeps over the juncture of his hips and thighs. "Won't call it hard but if you're gonna have to distract me like this every time I have to fire a gun, I'm gonna be that way for the rest of my life!" With no respite in sight either, he groaned to himself, knowing that he'd never get back to sleep tonight, not with the wood that he was sporting now! 

"You did it Mac," Vic replied, quiet pride glowing. "All by yourself. All you needed was a little distraction, a little relaxation, I'm just glad I could provide it," the older man chuckled. 

"Now I want you to do me a favor. I want you to do it again for me. This time with no distractions. However, as an added incentive, if you can do it without my distracting you, I promise to give you one hell of a distraction when we get home" Vic bribed softly, handing the gun back to Mac and drawing back a pace or two. 

"I promise to get you real relaxed back at the cottage—if you—make all your shots, then do it again on the next target. Think you're up to that kind of a challenge?" 

Mac's good cheer vanished at that and his eyes were troubled as he looked from the gun in his hands, to the target in front of him, and then at his partner behind him. Honestly, he wasn't sure at all if he could do this, not without ending up right back where he had been before, but he'd try. Ejecting the spent clip, Mac replaced it with a full one. "Will give it my best shot," he offered, turning enough to give Vic a half-smile, then facing the front once again. 

Vic's quiet 'you can do it' released some of the tension that had built up in the younger man's shoulders. As he raised the gun, Mac pushed aside the image of the other man from that hellish night, replacing it with the way Vic looked in the morning when he was half-asleep and aroused, but trying to be noble. 

It didn't happen at once, but by the end of the first clip, Mac's shots were hitting the target. Without saying a word, he reloaded and tried again, and again, and again until each shot hit somewhere on the silhouette at the far end of the range. 

Breathing heavily, soaked in sweat, and feeling as if his knees were going to give out at any instant, Mac pulled the last clip from the handgrip, then turned to look at Vic. "I don't know about relaxing," he muttered, swiping at his brow with his arm, "right now all I want is a shower." 

"I'm lucky to have you as a partner," Vic whispered quietly, the soft tone not diminishing the force of his convictions. "You did good, baby. Real good. C'mon, let's go home." Placing an arm around the younger man's waist to add his support, Victor took the gun and returned it to the weapons rack. He figured that security would have the cameras up by now or at least within the next half-hour, so he didn't even bother with them. Besides his first priority was his partner. 

The walk back to their temporary home took longer than it had to get to the shooting range, but Vic didn't mind at the least. He enjoyed having Mac lean on him for help. He'd missed this—the ability to help someone—especially someone who meant everything. And Mac did. Vic wasn't sure when or how but the pain-in-the-ass ex-thief with an attitude had become everything. But it was too soon to let Mac in on the secret, so for now Victor held it close to his heart. 

Leading the younger man inside, Vic shut the door and headed straight for the bathroom, ignoring Mac's protests that he didn't need any help and informing the ex-thief that he _wanted_ to do this. Stripping Mac quickly and as clinically as he could, which, considering how desperate Vic was for his handsome lover, wasn't easy, Vic pushed him under the warm spray of the shower while he stripped too. 

Climbing in behind Mac, Vic took his time lathering and rinsing every millimeter of Mac's body with loving strokes, chuckling at the soft groans and muttered curses, some of which he understood, though most he didn't. Although the younger man had been through both a physical and emotional wringer tonight, some parts of him were still ready for action, and Vic had to grin and make a soft crack about what 'walking hormones' teenagers were, resulting in a sponge being tossed at him. 

Once Mac was squeaky clean, Vic used the hot water to knead at and loosen tight muscles before leading the younger man out and drying him gently in a big fluffy towel. Not saying a word, he led Mac to bed and pushed him down playfully. "I believe I promised to take care of you earlier, didn't I?" he husked before kissing Mac tenderly then sliding down the younger man's rangy body until he was directly over Mac's erection. Looking up, he smiled at the ex-thief then gently placed a kiss on the tip of Mac's cock. 

"Good thing for you I always keep my promises," he husked before going down on the younger man. 

"Jesus fucking..." As that hot, wet mouth descended down over his erection, Mac forgot to think, forgot to breathe, forgot everything except that perfect haven that was taking him in, showing him glimmers of half-remembered ecstasy and tempting him with even more. "God, oh god Vic, you... that..." If he hadn't been so goddamned worn out, Mac thought he might jump right out of his skin in an attempt to get deeper into Vic's mouth, but as it was he could only lay there, clawing at the sheets, half-formed whimpers crawling up from his throat and desperate tremors wracking his body. 

"That's it baby," Vic growled softly as he came up for air. "God, you look so hot, love you like this, all aroused and helpless, needing me." Plunging back down to his task, Vic's hands began to roam over Mac's body, teasing his nipples, combing through chest hair, tracing abdominal muscles and tickling his navel. Vic sucked and lapped and swallowed and mouthed, making sure every inch of his lover's cock and balls was glistening and wet. 

"Come for me, Mac," Vic purred. "I wanna taste you, baby. Feel you fill my mouth and swallow you down. Come for me, lover," he begged softly, a finger slipping down between Mac's legs to brush against and tease his partner's anus, hoping the extra stimulation would drive him over the edge. 

Random words skated across Mac's mind, most providing meaningless background for the erotic attack his body was under though a few did manage to sink into his brain and cut through the haze of lust with crystal clarity. _Helpless, needy... No!_

"No." The former thief rasped out the single word while trying to squirm back and away from Victor's all too knowledgeable mouth and roaming hands. "Not helpless, not pathetic, damnit," Mac gasped, scooting back to the head of the bed and plastering his back against the wall, his panting breaths causing his chest to heave painfully. "Not gonna be the weak link, or a goddamn charity case." 

The mixture of arousal and confusion was plain in Victor's verdant gaze and Mac swallowed hard before continuing, trying to find a way to say what he meant. "If we're gonna be partners, it's everywhere, Vic," the younger man sighed. "Out there and in here. I just—" Closing his eyes, Mac drew his knees up toward his chest and rested his chin on them. "I don't want sex to be a reward and I want to be able to touch you, okay? This way it's—it's like a freaking conditioned response or something. See Mac hit a target, see Mac get a blowjob. I feel like one of Pavlov's fucking dogs or something." 

"I know," the teen continued quickly, opening his eyes again to look at his partner, "that wasn't what you meant by it but I just—I just want to feel like I'm doing something for you instead of taking from you." 

Vic ran a hand through his short hair, cursing his own ineptitude. He should have known that this wasn't a good idea, Dobie had shown him Mac's psych profile, not that Mac was ever gonna find out, as well as the Director's report on the young man's past. And it had been a little too thorough for Vic's liking. What Mac had gone through... but no. That wasn't what this was about. This was about him treating Mac like... a baby. 

"Okay, I'm gonna say this once, and I want you to really listen to me okay?" he requested quietly, and was relieved by his lover's hesitant nod. "You are _not_ a weak link or a charity case. You're a stronger man than me, Mac Ramsey. No," he said vehemently at the younger man's shaking head. "You _are_ stronger than me. Stronger in your beliefs and your convictions. I'm the one who sold out, remember. It's what got us both in this mess, not that I'm complaining because it means that I've got you. You are _my_ strength. You are _my_ inspiration." 

"I was wrong to do what I did, even if it got you to fire that damned gun right. I never... baby, I never meant to treat sex like a reward. It was an excuse Mac, and excuse for me to forget that stupid ass promise I made earlier and let myself touch you, really touch you. I _miss_ you Mac, so much it hurts. So from now on—equal partners, no games, no mind fucks, nothing. You want me babe, I'm yours. Have been from the moment we met. You call the shots on this Mac—it's all up to you," Vic finished softly, watching his lover process what he'd just said, waiting for what Mac would do next. 

The younger man remained where he was, frozen in his curled up position, on the verge of bolting once again. But if he did that, Mac wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to stop running and... And Vic was trying to fix things, admitting that he had been wrong no matter how good his intentions had been. 

With a disconsolate sigh, Mac dropped his defensive posture, rearranging his lanky body to sit cross-legged on the bed, looking seriously at his partner, ignoring the fact that they were both still nude. "I want you," he whispered, not wanting to argue about which of them was stronger in their beliefs tonight. Mac knew the answer. He _had_ no beliefs so it was very obvious which of them was. "I want to touch you, be touched by you, to remember... remember what it was like that night before it all went to hell." 

"But..." Mac couldn't believe that he was saying this, "but maybe we should wait until we're out of here. I don't mean wait to touch each other but for... more." The younger man ducked his head, suddenly looking every bit his age, then looked at Victor again. "Can I just touch you?" he asked, his tone a near agonized plea reflecting the depth of the wound and the all-encompassing need to be healed that Mac felt. 

Victor held out his arms, ignoring the dampness gathering in the corners of his eyes, though his voice betrayed his emotions with a deepened husk. "C'mere Mac," he whispered, inviting the younger man to snuggle into his embrace, and breathing a sigh of relief when he did so. 

"You can touch me Mac, as often as you like, in any way you like. We belong to each other, baby, that means I'm all yours—body, soul... and heart," Vic whispered softly. "We take this as fast or as slow as you want. You're in the driver's seat now—I'll play by the rules you set, okay?" he asked, lifting Mac's chin to look into his partner and lover's eyes. 

The younger man gazed back solemnly, his eyes ringed with dark circles brought on by exhaustion and stress. "How about we make the rules together? No one leading, no one following, just... together." His fingers moved restlessly against Victor's chest, resisting the urge to explore until they had this settled. Though the past few minutes had effectively banked the desire that had been racing through him, Mac still wanted—needed—to feel the other man against him, to stroke and explore Vic's body as he had wanted to so many times. Right now it wasn't sexual, it was simply out of a need for connection between them. 

"Together sounds perfect," Vic sighed as he wagged an internal war to get his libido under control. He would have laughed at the situation if he wasn't sure it would be taken the wrong way. Who'd have thought an 18 year old male would be preaching abstinence? 

"I... it's more than lust and sex, Mac, you know that right? You're the first person who's ever been able to twist my stomach into knots the way you do. And—what I was like when you came back... that's never happened before either. It'll never happen again. There's so much I want to say to you, _need_ to say to you—I just need a bit of time to get it straightened out in my own head and heart before I can say the words. But the words, they're there, ya know?" Vic managed to get out, hoping he didn't sound like too much of a dweeb. 

"You're the most important person in my life, baby. And the most powerful. Not even the dragon lady can do the things to me that you can," the older man finished, placing a soft kiss on Mac's forehead and finally relaxing back into the bed. "Nothing has ever felt this right in my entire life." 

Mac let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding and curled around Vic's side, one leg thrown over the ex-cop's, his hand still tracing light circles on the other man's chest and stomach. "Sure hope the dragon lady isn't able to do this to you," he offered, smiling a bit at the soft laugh that produced. "Don't like that thought at all." 

The younger man was fading fast now, emotional and physical exhaustion leading him toward sleep with little reticence. "Makes me wish..." Mac yawned at that and burrowed his face into Vic's neck, breathing deeply, lulled by the certainty of the other man's words and the warm surety of his presence. "Wish I wasn't so tired too. Or that—" He stopped for another jaw cracking yawn. "We were done with this place." 

At Victor's quiet 'me too', Mac smiled, though the expression had a dopey, glazed look to it. There was so much more he wanted to say to his partner, so much more he wanted to do, but he had time for that, they both had time. 

* * *

Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
The Nesting Place, anyone else, just let us know!   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] and [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby   
Other websites: <http://thesleepydragon.com>   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!   
Notes: Fourth in our AU series where teenaged Mac Ramsey meets Victor Mansfield the vice detective.   
Summary: Vic teaches Mac how to 'shoot'   
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	5. Interlude: Loggerheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
Author's notes: NOTES: TER/MA May 2000 Challenge. This month's challenge is from May-conX (with a small addition from us): Write a story where Krycek and Mulder (or Mac and Vic if you prefer) are cuffed together, possibly by a third party (said third party need not necessarily be sexually involved), and in such a way that they cannot remove the cuffs. The story can be set anywhere in the timeline, preferably post Terma/Tunguska or post Patient X/Ratb. Have a blast with a cuffed couple!  


* * *

  
**A Pretty Baby Interlude  
Loggerheads **

"Just _how_ did we end up like this again?" Mac groused, switching his weight to his other leg and stretching his arm higher over his head in order to put a little slack to the short chain that bound his right wrist to Victor's left one. This was one time when the height he had put on was a definite advantage. If the pull on his shoulder was bad, Mac didn't even want to think of how it had to feel for Vic who was now a good three inches shorter then he was. 

The ex-thief knew very well how they had ended up like this, cuffed together over a tree branch, standing on tiptoe. It was just that bitching about it gave him something to think about other then the lovely little bomb the wacko fringe eco-terrorists he and Vic had been investigating had planted at the logging company's headquarters. Unfortunately, that headquarters was near enough that if it went boom, so did they. 

Jackie was out here somewhere—hopefully anyway. The pseudo valley girl agent had been undercover as a reporter covering the radical group's encounters with the loggers—though how she managed to pass herself off as anything other then a bubble-brained bombshell, Mac had no clue. If they had a shred of hope left, it was that her cover hadn't been blown. 

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for his and Vic's, which was what got them into this predicament in the first place. Apparently radical environmental terrorists and corporate scumbag fascists shouldn't be caught trying to remove each other's tonsils with their tongues if they wanted to remain secure in their chosen professions. 

The Director was going to kill them when she heard this one—if they lived long enough for that to happen anyway. 

Victor bit back a snapped retort, then a pained groan as his shoulders caught fire once more. He was such a goddamn, idiot—the Director was gonna have their balls for sure, he thought derisively. Brilliant Mansfield, letting your cock do the thinking. It was just that Mac had looked so darn _cute_ in his plaid shirt, cargo shorts and Doc Martins. His own little Eco-warrior. 

The two weeks apart had been long and tiring. Vic wasn't used to sleeping on his own anymore, he'd been surviving on four hours a night maximum for the length of the case, just not able to sleep without having his lover curled into him. One of the reasons the bitch probably suggested this—her 'boys' were too dependent on each other. Not that Vic minded, not in the least. He adored being dependent on Mac. Which was why he'd caved so easily when the younger man had called him earlier today. 

"Yeah, well you're the one who thought we needed to meet face to face to exchange information, Captain Planet!" Vic snarked back as he tried desperately to figure out how they could get out of this predicament without the Director or Jackie, therefore the Director, finding out. The way Jackie always went running to the redhead made him wonder just what their sometime 'third corner' really had going on with their boss. Vic shuddered at the thought as it passed across his mind. 

"We were already on the phone—but you thought the line wasn't secure. No—you just wanted to kiss me stupid is all. Damn good thing we both still had our pants up when they caught us—now _that_ we couldn't bullshit our way out of with the boss." Vic's mind raced—how to get out of this. . . 

"Screw you, Mansfield," Mac grumbled, though there was no heat behind his words. "Didn't see you arguing against the meeting too much and is it my fault that freakin' Edgar showed up? He was supposed to be off with everyone else chanting around that big old pine tree for the savage primeval gods to come and take their retribution on you soul-less land-raping bastards." The ex-thief looked toward the building, wondering just how much time they had before it blew, then up at the branch overhead. "He would have bought the whole 'taking some back for the woods' thing too if you hadn't laughed!" 

Ignoring his partner's complaint, Victor set about setting his plan into motion. "Okay—so we've each got a hand free. You're lighter than me so..." Bracing his back against the tree trunk, Victor held out his right hand at about waist height. "Use my hand as a stepping board, see if you can swing yourself up and over—that way we'll be off this fucking branch if nothing else," the elder agent thought quickly. Off the branch and away from the bomb—this was a good thing. Then all they had to do was make it back to the cabin the Agency had commandeered as a temporary check in—where Vic's truck was parked. Just a twelve mile hike with the sun setting. Fuck. 

"If we can get out of the blast radius, in case Jacks doesn't make it to the bomb or is _like_ distracted, or something," he bit out sarcastically, "we can find a spot to curl up for the night. We can head back to the base site in the morning —probably to find our 'glorious' leader waiting with her whip, but at least we'll be breathing—and in one piece." 

"Are you sure about this..." Mac looked from his partner's hand to the branch overhead. Even with the boost it wasn't going to be an easy climb. Well, there really wasn't any other way out of this and every second that passed was one less on the timer. "Okay, shouldn't be too hard, up and over, just like the Wall on the course." 

Twisting his right hand so that he could grab onto the rough bark once he was off the ground, Mac stepped back, offering an apologetic look when the move practically yanked Vic off the ground. "Sorry. Ready?" At the older man's nod, Mac placed his right foot in Vic's palm, stepping up as the ex-cop's boost. 

It should have worked. In fact it would have worked if the pull of the handcuff on Mac's wrist hadn't caused his grip to slip. Knowing only that a fall might mean dislocated shoulders for both of them, Mac scrabbled for a hold and somehow managed to stop himself from slipping any further. Once he was able to catch his breath, Mac became aware of the warmth centered at his crotch and just what was causing it. 

"Appreciate the thought, man, but don't you think we had better wait until we get out of here? I mean, coming with a bang is great and all, but I really don't think that the post-coital glow will be all that good when we're splattered all over the landscape." 

"Mac, I love you more than life, but if you don't get your dick out of my face and over that branch I may be tempted to bite. You get me lover?" Vic growled around a face full of cargo clad Ramsey crotch. Rolling his eyes at the younger man's snicker, Vic ignored the slight discomfort and maneuvered so that he could raise both of Mac's legs to his shoulders. 

Continuing to ignore the growing 'recognition' in his lover's pants, Vic gasped out, "Use my shoulders to stand and swing yourself over. We gotta get out of here Mac, the clock is ticking and we've gotta make some distance." 

Hearing Mac's chuckle, Vic chose to ignore it and grunted softly as his shoulders were used as a stepping stool. In a matter of moments Mac was on the ground next to him, and the first thing Vic did was sag back down so his spine could realign from the tree-hugger's version of the rack. "If I ever get my hands on that Oswald or whatever his name is—he is gonna wish the Director got to him first," the ex cop moaned as he started to move away from the trees, dragging his chained lover behind him. "C'mon Cap, we still gotta get out of the blast radius." 

"Edgar." Mac grimaced, rotating his shoulder and lengthening his stride to keep up with Vic's hurried steps. "And that's Captain Planet sir to you Silas Greedly." How much distance was enough? That was the question. The bomb the group had planted was small but powerful, never mind the fact that they were going to destroy part of the very forest they were trying to protect with it. 

They moved deeper into the woods, and once they'd put a good distance between themselves and the building Mac paused, pulling Vic to a stop alongside him. "Looks like Jacks got to it in time. Want to try to hook up with her or keep going?" As the ex-thief spoke, he rummaged through his pockets one more time, hoping that Edgar had missed something that he could use to open the cuffs. The man may have been a freak, but he was a damn thorough one considering he had stripped both of them of anything remotely useful in that regard. 

Mac continued bitching about that turn of events, then something Vic had said earlier registered and his head snapped up. "You mean we have to spend the night out here? Fuck!" As if the past two weeks hadn't been bad enough, but to have to be out here without even a freaking sleeping bag? Okay, the fact that Vic was here did count for a lot, but to sleep on the ground? Mac shuddered and went to rub his arms with his hands, aborting the movement when the handcuffs yanked at his arm. 

Moving to stand behind his lover, Vic pulled Mac back against him, wrapping the younger man in a warm embrace. "Well, we're about half way between the check point and the logging camp, so either way we're sorta stuck out here for the night. I'd rather not take the chance of running into _Edgar_ or any of his bunch, so on the off chance that some got away, I'd say head towards the checkpoint. I'm hoping that the Director, Dobie and the rest have gone home, that way we can grab my truck and hightail it." 

Looking up at the sky, Vic did some calculations. They had about another hour of light, tops. Which meant they could probably add another half hour of walking, or less if they found a good spot to curl up in, and some firewood. Thank god Elmer, or whatever his name was, didn't take the matches out of his breast pocket. They'd have a fire at least. 

"Think you can handle another half hour of walking, babe? Figure it's about all we can do before we need to get comfy for the night. They didn't grab my matches so we can have a fire to get warm, and curl up for the night." Not that Vic was planning on sleeping—one of them needed to stay awake in case predators such as bears or lynx came along—not that he was going to tell the younger man of the possibility of that happening. Mac was definitely a city boy, that was for sure! 

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Mac sighed, tilting his head back against Vic's shoulder and covering the other man's hands with his, twining their fingers together. This assignment may have been a total pain in the ass to begin with, and it may have deteriorated even further with each passing day, but now, seeing as they were alive and together again, things didn't look so bad. 

_God, I'm getting to be as much of a sappy romantic as Vic is,_ the younger man laughed to himself, not minding that fact in the least. Turning his head enough to kiss Vic's ear, Mac sighed again, then straightened up. "Lead on Davy Crockett. I know better then to try, the only thing I'd get us is lost or walking in a circle until we met up with my 'friends' again—and I do not want that!" 

Letting go of the younger man with great reluctance, Vic began to take note of their position. He couldn't resist teasing the younger man though. "Oh but they luuve you, Mac," Victor sing-songed as he got his bearings and began to head in the right direction, fingers once more seeking out his lover's, wanting the comforting presence of Mac next to him. Grunting softly as a fist connected with his shoulder, Vic chuckled. Sometimes it was just so damn easy to bait the younger man. 

"Hey think of it this way lover, there is no way in hell _she_ could be watching tonight—unless there are cameras hidden on every tree in the forest. We may actually have an entire night of privacy—just to the two of us, fire blazing, under the stars, no Agency, no interference—nothing but a pair of handcuffs - which is kinda kinky—and some five alarm outdoor sex," Vic wolf grinned, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Nah," Mac muttered, contemplating slugging his lover again, then waving the idea off. " _You_ luuve me, they just wanted to get into my pants—free love and all that. I thought that shit went out with the hippies." He paused as they clambered over a fallen tree, managing the move without too much difficulty despite the fact that they were tethered together. "And I'm liking the sound of the last part more and more every second. Matter of fact, this looks like a good place to stop to me!" Without even glancing around, Mac planted his heels and stopped them both, sliding their joined hands behind Victor's back to give the older man's linen covered ass a squeeze. "I've missed you, Vic, two weeks is a long time apart—too long." Mac's tone may have been light and teasing, but the seriousness of his words was plainly visible in his eyes. 

"Couldn't sleep without you next to me," the older man mumbled even as he leaned into the hard body pressing against him. "The Director may have been right about us learning to function without each other, but damned if I have to like it," the ex-cop groused even as he began to unbutton Mac's lumberjack shirt, trying to get to the warm, lush flesh beneath. "Missed waking up with you lying across me, trying to fight my way out from beneath you to get the morning coffee, even missed that noise you call music," Vic continued to mutter, working the shirt as far off has he could with the cuffs in the way. 

"And if Edgar and his friends know what's good for them, they'll be long gone, don't like anyone making moves on my man," Vic growled, nipping at the exposed flesh on Mac's neck lightly. "I'm possessive that way," he continued, coloring slightly. "Don't like the thought of sharing you most times, but the thought of those tree-hugging dweebs actually trying to..." Vic shuddered. "They'd better be far, far away." 

Groaning at the memories Vic's voice called up, Mac squirmed to help the older man pull off his shirt, then yelped as Vic closed his teeth of his neck. God this was what he needed, two nights was too much to be apart, let alone two weeks! 

Grabbing at the hem of the golf shirt Vic was wearing (and mumbling curses at corporate lawyer leisure wear), Mac dragged it up and over the older man's head, shoving it down his arm until it hung tangled with the soft flannel of his own shirt. "Who cares if they tried," he growled, latching onto Vic's ear, grumbling because the ex-cop didn't have either of his earrings in because of his cover. "They didn't, that's what matters, and it isn't like I didn't see that slut of an administrative assistant trying to climb all over you when you were visiting the protest site!" 

A harder nip accompanied the movement of Mac's hands to Vic's khakis, his fingers tangling with the other man's as he yanked at the multiple buttons, popping them open, then shoving his free hand down the back, beneath the soft cotton of Vic's boxer's. "Ahh fuck, needed to have my hands on you for so long." Mac's voice was raspy and his fingers clenched spastically, pulling Vic closer, grinding their cocks together. 

"God, I've missed you," Vic managed to groan out, his free hand trying to map as much of Mac's flesh as he could before yanking the younger man's shorts down to tangle around his hiking boots. "Missed touching you, missed feeling you hot and sweaty under me, missed being in you, you being in me, your touch, your taste, the sound you make when you come, everything. Missed that damned piercing too," Vic chuckled painfully as he looked around for a soft spot for them to get naked. Which brought up another problem. 

Lack of lubricant. One that caused Vic to smile wickedly as he realized his closest source of anything remotely similar. Dropping to his knees, he nuzzled against the younger man's bobbing erection, before running a tongue up the underside of Mac's cock from balls to tip. Smirking up at the younger man, he commented, "Wanna be so deep in you I get lost, but we need lubricant, baby. Think you can help me out here?" and with that warning, he engulfed his lover's cock in his mouth, working to make Mac come as soon as possible. 

"Jesus!" The curse was ripped from Mac's throat as he felt Vic take in his erection, surrounding his enflamed flesh with liquid heat and licking, sucking motion. His free hand scrabbling for purchase in the former cop's short hair and the cuffed one latching onto Vic's wrist, Mac threw back his head and howled, locking his knees to keep from collapsing as his lover proceeded to prove that Hoover had nothing on him when it came to creating a vacuum. 

Normally Mac would have held on as long as possible for the pleasure of enjoying Vic's talented mouth until he couldn't take it any more. Now, however, he gave himself over to the all-encompassing sensations, rocking his hips against the incessant rhythm as the older man drew him nearer and nearer to the edge. The light scrape of Vic's teeth against the underside of his cock coupled with the sudden pressure of one of the other man's fingers against his anus sent Mac over the edge and he came with a strangled shout, arresting the motion of his hips as much as possible to keep from ramming his cock down Vic's throat. Not that he would mind having to come up with more 'lubricant' if it was needed, but the next time Mac came, he wanted it to be with Vic buried hip deep in him. 

The moment he could breathe again and Vic released his softening flesh, Mac dropped to the ground beside the older man. After a short, violent battle with his boots, shorts and boxers, the ex-thief was nude, posing provocatively before yanking his lover on top of him by the chain that bound them. "Just don't you swallow!" he ordered, trying not to laugh. _That had to be the first time anyone's ever said that to someone with a mouth full of cum!_

Vic swirled the bitter salt liquid around in his mouth, savoring the slightly acrid taste. Normally he would swallow and feel the slightly viscous fluid slide down his throat, relishing that he could do this to his lover. As it was he was desperately trying not to spray Mac as he struggled not to laugh. 

Smiling around a full mouth, Vic edged his way downwards until he was once more hovering over Mac's groin. This time he slung the younger man's legs over his shoulders and allowed a dribble of warm cum to flow over the younger man's tiny portal. Working a finger inside he allowed more of the precious liquid to dribble out letting another finger find smooth entry, then another, and one more still. He was going to make this feel very, very good. 

Surging up the younger man's body so that this time he straddled Mac's waist, he took the handcuffed hands, and emptied the remaining 'lubricant' into Mac's hand. "Get me wet, babe," he husked when finally able to speak again. 

Whining loudly at the loss of the delicious stimulation within him, Mac grabbed the back of Vic's neck with his free hand, dragging Victor in for a tongue thrashing kiss. The younger man then set the links of chain between their wrist jangling with the speed at which he slicked up Vic's cock with the combination of his semen and Vic's saliva, thoroughly coating his lover's erection, then sliding his fingers down over Vic's balls to tickle his perineum. 

"You know," he chucked, flashing a wicked grin up at the older man as Vic's hips drove down into his hand, "I thought that was what the girl was supposed to say." 

"Tease," Victor growled, his eyes sparking with barely restrained mirth. "If I didn't have the need to plow your body into oblivion right now, I'd gladly get you 'wet'." 

Placing a few strokes to his own needy cock in demonstration of his would be plans, Victor had to chuckle at the younger man's rather vicious rant in Chinese and the dire warning of 'don't you fucking well dare!' 

Surging downwards, Vic had Mac's legs hooked over his shoulders and the tip of his cock slowly driving into his lover's anus in seconds. Tight heat engulfed him as two weeks of separation and no sex made their toll felt in a surprisingly delightful way. 

"Christ, you're as tight as you were our first time, baby," Vic groaned, pushing in slowly. "Just like the night we got home and 'christened' our new lives." 

Mac's expression of annoyance at Vic's threat faded to one of complete satisfaction as the older man pressed inside him. "God, needed this," he gasped, grasping his legs to pull them nearer to his chest, letting Victor settled closer against him. "Can't wait to see if you feel the same way." As he said this, Mac arched up into his lover's body, beyond caring that there were sticks and pine needles poking him in the back and that soon it was going to be too dark in the forest to see, let alone gather wood to start a fire—you had to have priorities after all! 

An attempt to wrap his arms around Vic's back was met with a yelp as he twisted Vic's arm backward, so Mac settled for twining the fingers of their bound hands together while he slid his other hand behind Vic's neck, pulling him in for another kiss as they began to move together. 

Vic knew he wouldn't last long this time around, he'd been so desperate for Mac, and watching and tasting the younger man find release had strained his self control to the breaking point. Vic's hips moved wildly, too needy to find a steady pace, he just wanted and wanted now. 

A series of short, powerful thrusts and the clamping of Mac's internal muscles driving him wild sent Victor careening out of control. Biting down on his lip to keep noise at a minimum and he was coming fast and furious. "Too fucking long," he managed to gasp, gently lowering himself onto Mac, then rolling to the side taking the younger man with him. 

Peppering kisses across the younger man's face and chest, Vic pulled Mac closer with his free arm. "So you when do you want your turn, Captain Planet?" Vic sniggered softly. 

The pressure of the thick branch under his ribs made Mac groan and he rooted around under himself with his free hand to find the offending treelimb and toss it into the woods. "I want my turn when we're in a soft, comfortable, _clean_ , bed," the younger man grumped, having recovered enough to start thinking about bugs, snakes, poison ivy and all the other nasty things there were in the woods. And to top it off... "Hey Vic? You think you could get that fire going, it's getting really dark out here." 

* * *

" _Never_ again am I taking an assignment that takes me into the fucking woods!" Mac grumbled plaintively as he tried to walk, scratch his multitude of mosquito bites and ignore the fact that he was starving—all at once. "No way, no how, don't care what Lady D does to me." 

If he ever saw Elmer, or Edgar, or whatever the fuck the guy's name was again, the man was toast. Okay, the fact that they had lost the matches Vic had scavenged was as much his fault as anyone's but that didn't mean Mac had to enjoy the fact that they had spent a night in the cold, dark, altogether too noisy for his peace of mind, woods. Thank god they were almost at the cabin. There had to be something there to get these cuffs off as well as a shower, or any kind of running water. 

Glancing over at Victor who looked just as bedraggled, but infinitely more cheerful, Mac revised his last thought. Maybe the cuffs could come off after they had that shower... "How far do we have left?" he asked for about the hundredth time in as many minutes. 

"How much further yet?" Vic teased. "God Mac, you sound like a five year old, and a spoiled brat at that." Ducking the swing the younger man aimed at him, Vic pointed between two trees. "And your cabin and my chariot await m'lord," he continued, pointing to his cherry red truck sitting parked in front. 

"So, directly home or do we dare show our faces in the cabin?" Vic asked as they ambled up to the command post. Either choice promised that the Director would be calling on them, but Vic was all for delaying tactics. He figured it would take them a few hours to get home, a few more to get cleaned up and a few more to get dirty again. 

"Either way, let's get the hell out of these cuffs. Next round I want hands free." 

The sight of what passed as civilization out here cheered Mac immensely and he slid his hand into Victor's pants pocket, snagging the older man's keys almost before Vic noticed he had grabbed them. Twirling the ring around his finger, Mac pulled Vic toward the truck, then opened the door. "I dunno, Vice-man, I kinda like having you at my beck and call like this. Besides," he added with a wicked grin, "the way we're cuffed together means _I_ get to drive and if you think I'm passing up that chance, you're loonier then Edgar!" 

Ignoring his lover's look of stunned disbelief, Mac shooed Vic into the truck, then settled into the driver's seat. "So," he asked, managing to keep a totally straight face, "how do you shift this thing again?" 

Vic's howl of terror scared the birds out of the treetops and sent the animals nearby scurrying for cover. "Nooooooooooooooo!" 

* * *

5/31/00   
Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
Archive: RatB, WWOMB and The Nesting Place, anyone else, just let us know ;)   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] and [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby Interlude   
Other websites: <http://thesleepydragon.com/>   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: This is set about a year after Vic and Mac were recruited by the Agency.   
Summary: An answer to RatB's May challenge—Victor and Mac work an eco-terrorism case, and end up in a bit of a fix.   
---


	6. V: Graduation Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part V  
Graduation Day**

Ignoring the approach of her two newest agents for what she calculated was a suitable period, the Director closed the folder she was studying and glanced up at the men. "Well, boys, did you enjoy the tour?" 

"Sure, Dobie is a great guide. Give him a pleated skirt and little flag to wave, and he can get a job at a travel agency," Mac quipped, trying to control his impatience. If Lady D caught on to just how badly he wanted out of this place, she'd probably keep him and Vic here for the rest of the freakin' day. 

Earlier that morning, they had passed the last of their 'tests', this one involving a simulated break in and rescue operation that turned into a 'gunfight' with the kidnappers when they were discovered. Both of them had taken minor hits from the enemy's guns, and while the paintballs didn't do any lasting damage, the damn things stung when they impacted. In the end, however, the operation had been a success; the hostage rescued, the bad guys apprehended and apparently all done well enough to impress their trainers. 

So now if she would let them go, they could get out of here and settle in at Vic's condo. The very thought of going back to the place where he had tried to kill the older man made Mac tense up a bit, but he also couldn't wait. 

Spring had turned to summer during the course of their instruction, not that either one of them had had time to notice. With the uncanny intuition they seemed to possess when it came down to their 'students', the instructors had kept them so busy during the last month that Mac and Vic barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone anything more. 

Mac supposed that in a way, this had been a good thing. They had both been too exhausted to feel the frustration that might have built up from night after night of close proximity with nothing more then cuddling and kissing. Hell, the few times they had enough energy to attempt more, someone was always pounding on the door, sending them out on night training of some sort. It was freaky—like the place was wired or something. 

The young ex-thief looked at the Director sharply at that, his brows furrowing slightly. No way. She wouldn't do that to them, would she? 

"I'm glad you found his talk amusing. I also wanted to congratulate the two of you on completing your training and learning to work together. Cooperation is an important part of every successful partnership, as you well know." She smirked at that, then pulled an elegantly wrapped package from beside her desk. 

"Don't bother opening it until you get home. I'm sure that you boys will make good use of what's inside once you do though. Your vehicles have been moved to the condo, so Mr. Dobrinsky will drive you there. I expect to see the two of you first thing Monday morning. Play time is over, boys. The real work starts now." 

The sterile doors barely swung closed behind them before Vic was hauling Mac into his arms and kissing him ravenously. "God, I needed that," he sighed at last. "Need a hell of a lot more, baby, but we need to be home for that," he continued. 

The Director's last comment finally penetrated his sleep deprived and lust addled brain. "The real work? Are you as worried as I am?" he moaned, still holding Mac tightly to him. Training had been hell, especially towards the end. But they'd gotten the teamwork down pat, and now Vic was desperate to get their personal lives on an equally even keel. 

The sound of shoes striking cement echoed down an eerily empty hallway and was all the warning they had before Dobrinsky rounded the corner. He took one look at their flushed faces and guilty postures and grinned. "Keep it in your pants 'til you get home, Ace," he chuckled. "Shit—can take you out of Vice, but you're still chasing the _babies_ ," he continued, blithely ignoring Vic's growl and the venomous stare from the 'baby' in question. 

"Car's this way—and don't be messing up my backseat. It's a classic." 

"Fuck you, Dobie," Vic shot off. 

"Nah, no thanks, don't think your pretty baby would like that; besides, we _both_ know who you really wanna fuck," the black man smirked, complacent in his knowledge that Vic wouldn't really shoot him. 

Vic, on the other hand, was seriously contemplating just that course of action. 

* * *

Halfway back to the condo, in bumper to bumper traffic, Vic finally gave in to the inevitable. "Whaddya think she got us?" 

"Cuffs? Leather? A riding crop?" Mac guessed, glaring at the back of Dobie's bald head when the older man snorted. "Knowing Lady D, it's gonna be weird." Muttering out curses at the traffic around them, Mac dragged the box off the floor, then scooted over beside Victor, rubbing up against his partner, then whimpering as his own sense of frustration grew. 

"Might as well open it and see." Leaning his head against Vic's shoulder and feeling the ex-cop's arm go around him, Mac ripped open the glossy paper and flipped up the top on the box. 

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, eyes widening at the assortment of videos and instruction manuals the Director had gifted them with. 'Just in case the two of you have forgotten what to do,' the note on top of 'The Joy of Gay Sex' read. Moaning, Mac turned his face into Vic's neck. "Why is everyone here so damn obsessed with our sex life?" 

"Because Macky," Dobie answered, eyeing the two agents through the rear view mirror, "the two of you are so obvious about it—or your lack of one—that we can't help it." He picked a brown paper bag off the seat next to him and tossed it back to Victor "A little something from me too. I'm sure I don't have to lecture you boys on protection, do I?" 

"Can we just get out and walk?" Mac moaned, breathing a silent word of thanks when Dobie turned off the expressway and onto the surface streets. Not much longer now ... 

Glaring at the bald mountain through the rearview mirror, Vic had the sudden almost overwhelming urge to shoot the sonofabitch, but he managed to restrain himself. "I got a better idea, baby," Vic whispered in the younger man's ear, taking the box and laying it on the seat. They could play with the things in there later. "How about we start getting warmed up and piss him off at the same time?" 

Without any more warning, Vic's hand snacked under Mac's shirt to play and toy with a nipple while his mouth descended on the teen's, devouring it completely as he let all the sexual tension of these past months boil to the surface and translate into immediate and uncontrollable passion. 

"Want you, Mac. So bad it hurts, baby," Vic husked softly as he began to work his way to Mac's elegant column of neck, biting and nipping at the tender flesh hard enough to leave a bright red passion mark visible for the world to see. "Mine now, pretty baby, all mine," he growled softly, completely forgetting Dobie, the car, and the world around them. 

Mac nearly screamed when Vic's fingers closed on his nipple, but he avoided it, just. What the teenager did do was to launch himself off the leather seat and into Vic's lap, wrapping himself around the other man as much as was possible in the tight confines of the car. "God, Vic, need you now," he moaned, rubbing his crotch against Victor's, the layers of linen and denim between them a frustrating impediment. 

Dragging the ex-cop's mouth away from his neck, knowing from the lingering ache that he was going to have a massive hickey there come morning but not caring in the least, Mac latched onto Vic's mouth, suckling on his tongue hungrily, teasing it with the smooth, round ball of his piercing. His long, agile fingers buried in Vic's dark hair, Mac ground himself closer to Victor, oblivious to everything but the long denied need that was even now demanding to be fulfilled. 

"Hey you two, wait til you get upstairs for Christ's sake," Dobie wailed as he contemplated the work he'd have to do to return his back seat to pristine order. "You're home, dammit. Ace! You're home!" 

Dobrinsky's words finally penetrated the white-hot fog of lust in Vic's brain, and he dragged his mouth away with an audible groan. "We're home, baby—c'mon. Let's get upstairs," he husked, his voice trembling with want. Opening the door, Vic somehow managed to get them out of the car, Mac still clinging to him like a limpet—not that he minded one bit. "You bring the bags," he snapped at Dobie as he strode towards the elevator, each step he took rubbing him against Mac's lush ass. 

"Mr. Mansfield—so nice to have you home at last. Your parents have been . . . calling." The condominium manager staggered to a halt, as he could no longer deny what was before his eyes. Well damnation, if he'd known that the handsome police office swung that way... 

"This is Mac; he lives with me," Vic managed to grind out. "Make him a set of keys and assign him my extra parking space, will ya? Gotta go." The elevator door snapped open, and the sight of two men almost fornicating sent Mrs. Crenshaw into an almost tizzy—land sakes but they were...pretty. 

Dobrinsky flung the duffel bags and the presents into the elevator. "This is as far as I go, Ace—happy honeymoon." The door slid shut and Vic hit the button, pressed Mac against the emergency stop and ground himself into his lover. "Need you. Need you so bad, sweetheart. Gotta...." 

Forcing Mac to stand on his own two feet, Vic hit the elevator floor with his knees and had Mac's pants open in seconds with his cock straining straight out. Not waiting for preliminaries, Vic swallowed the younger man whole. 

Working his head back and forth, his tongue whiplashed around the salty treat in his mouth. Needed to get the edge off—it was too much. They'd have more time later. Needed... Mac's hands threaded through his hair, and his fingers bit painfully into Vic's skull. With an almost inhuman wail the younger man came, filling Vic's mouth with the bitter salt taste of his semen. 

"D-damn it Victor," Mac gasped once he was able to rub two brain cells together enough to form a complete thought once again. He stared down at the older man in a mixture of lust and slight annoyance, as well as confusion that they hadn't reached their floor yet. 

At Vic's look of dazed bewilderment, Mac drew in a shaky breath and urged the other man to his feet, kissing him hungrily, then pulling back. "What did we say about this? Together or not at all!" He felt his emotions knot into a painful ball deep within him and turned away, angrily pounding at the emergency stop when he saw that it was pushed in. "That felt so good but . . ." he muttered to the wall, his shoulders slumping as he rested his forehead against the cool wood, feeling Vic press up against him from behind, hugging him tightly. 

"I'm sorry," Mac said quietly. "God, wanted this for so long, and now I'm fucking it up. Maybe it's this building or something." The elevator stopped moving, and the doors opened out onto the hallway leading to Vic's condo—and Mac swallowed harshly, remembering the last time he had walked though those doors. 

"Don't be, I'm the one who screwed up again, baby," Vic replied in a choked whisper, knowing he'd messed up royally. "I didn't think... I just wanted you so badly. I..." Grabbing the bags and the damned present that started all of this, Vic turned to Mac. 

"We can move if you want; I can sell the condo and we can find another place. We can even stay at a hotel 'til it's done. Money's not really a problem for me, despite how I dress and live," the older man continued quietly. 

"Just... don't leave me Mac, please," his voice broke harshly before he turned away and walked towards his so-called home. 

"What..." Mac's croaked out question was barely audible even to him, and he stared at the older man in shock until the closing of the elevator doors caused him to move or risk being left in there. Vic had the door to the condo open before Mac made it down the hall to him, and the younger man took advantage of the situation, spinning Victor around, sending bags and the box flying, pinning him up against the door. 

"Stop it!" he yelled, feeling like a total shit for being the cause of the pain he saw in his partner's eyes. "It's not anything you did; it's me, I'm the one who's fucked up, remember? It's just because I want you so fucking bad I can't think straight! I... just...want...to..." His hitching breathing making speaking difficult, Mac gave up trying and grabbed Vic's hand, yanking him off balance in the direction of the master bedroom. "Want you in our bed beside me, want to feel all of you, want to know that I won't wake up alone again." 

Vic yanked them to a stop just outside the bedroom door and pulled Mac in towards him. Taking the younger man's face in his hands, Vic studied Mac's beloved features. "I love you, Mac Ramsey," he husked, knowing that _this_ was the time to say the words at long last. "Forever, pretty baby." 

Bending, he kissed his lover softly, showing with actions as well as with words just how loved and cherished Mac was. Walking the younger man backwards as he continued to sip delicately at his mouth, Vic's hands skimmed off Mac's shirt and finished unfastening his pants, letting them slide down and trip the younger man into falling onto the firm mattress behind him. 

Standing above Mac, he made quick work of his own clothes, then got rid of Mac's Italian loafers and the jumbled mass of clothing. "So beautiful," he husked, watching his lover with adoring eyes. Can't quite figure out how I got so lucky; may not deserve you, but I'm definitely keeping you," Vic growled, lowering himself to the bed next to Mac and rolling the younger man on top of him. 

"I promise you, Mac, that from now on, unless work or injury keeps me away, you'll never wake up alone again. This is for life, my pretty baby; you're stuck with me now." 

Stunned by Vic's words, Mac had no clue of how they ended up on the bed, naked and him straddling the other man's equally nude body. This was... A fist clenched around the young man's heart and he threw his arms around Victor, burying his head in the warm skin of his lover's neck, trying to control the wracking gasps that wrenched at his body. 

"Love you, so much. Can't lose you," he gasped, rubbing his face against the bare skin of Vic's shoulder, not noticing the way it dampened from the pair of tears that escaped his tightly closed eyes. "Need to feel you, to touch you, want to watch you when you come, please, Victor." As Mac spoke, he began rubbing himself over the older man's body, reveling in the glide of skin against skin, of the roll and flex of well toned muscles beneath him. Despite the emotional gamut he'd run in the last five minutes, Mac proved, once again, that teenagers were resilient when his cock began to stir, then sprang to life, pressing into the hollow of Vic's hip, demanding an answering arousal from the other man. 

"You're never going to lose me, baby, I promise," Vic husked as he arched up into the younger man, pressing hard against him. He was so hard and aching, it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge, and having his pretty baby rubbing against him, the rough soft chest hair abrading his nipples lightly and the long, firm column of his lover's cock rubbing against his was almost unbearable. 

"Need you, baby, need you so bad!" the ex-cop gasped as he rubbed and squirmed against the younger man. "Touch me, Mac, feel me, make me come - fuck, I'm so close already, please, baby..." the older man begged shamelessly. 

The younger man's flew open wide, and he moaned deep in his throat, a shudder running the length of his body at Vic's pleading tone. "God, Vic," he panted, kissing his partner hard before backing off and tracing his hands down the strong lines of the ex-cop's gorgeous body. One finger hooked through the ring dangling from Vic's nipple, and he tugged lightly, the groan that he got in reaction making Mac's body leap in sympathy. 

Leaving that tempting bit of jewelry, he moved lower until both hands were stroking the hard, slick flesh of Vic's cock, exploring the differences between his own flesh and his lover's. From the dusky, flared head that glistened with leakage to the sturdy, veined length and finally the heavy globes that hung beneath it, now pulled up tight and hard with arousal, Mac explored, satisfying his curiosity about Vic's body on the most primal level. 

Darting a look up at the older man, taking in the needy expression on Vic's face and the way his head was thrashing back and forth on the mattress and hearing the needy moans that escaped his lips, Mac smiled slowly. He leaned in, lapping at the tip of Vic's cock, swallowing the bitter-salt flavor down then diving in for more, addicted already to the flavor. 

Vic's fingers threaded through the dark silk of Mac's hair and hung on for dear life. Letting Mac play with him when he was so close to losing it had been the hardest thing he'd done in a long time, but the look of wonder on his lover's face had made it worthwhile. 

Feeling Mac's mouth engulf him in moist heat was almost his undoing. Fingers clenched convulsively, and Vic's head went back, his body arching up as a strangled scream escaped his lips. "So good, baby, so fucking... Mac, there, oh yeah. Oh god, baby!" The feeling of the metal ball gliding against his flesh was too much for the older man, and with a strangled scream he came, flooding Mac's mouth with his seed. 

Reflex and past experience took over, and Mac swallowed, gulping the strong tasting flood down, continuing to massage his lover's shaft until the spasms ceased and Vic began to soften in his mouth. "God, Victor," he rasped, letting the other man's cock slip from between his lips, following it with his tongue to lick the final, musky taste from his flesh. "You're beautiful." 

Moving slowly, his expression one of awe-struck reverence, Mac slowly crawled up the older man's body, his aching erection slapping at his stomach with each move. "You looked..." Dark eyes had turned to midnight, and Mac leaned on one hand to slowly run his other hand over Vic's jaw, down his neck and over his chest to rest over his heart. 

"God, I want you so much." He swallowed hard at that, having no clue as to how the other man would react to that statement. They'd never talked about who had what role in their relationship; hell, Mac didn't even have a clue what 'normal' roles in a homosexual relationship were. He'd just figured that when they finally got to this point, Vic would be the one doing the taking, not that he minded one bit. But now—now the older man was down for the count, so to speak and Mac was so hard that he was going to go nuts with need. 

"How do you want me, baby?" Vic husked, pretending not to notice his lover's nervousness. He had a feeling that they'd need to have a long talk after they'd gotten this out of their systems—about just what they wanted from this relationship and any misconceptions either of them might have. 

For the moment, however, Vic was more than willing to let Mac be the one doing the taking. He'd often fantasized about this during those long, empty months. Months when he'd deliberately tortured himself with what he thought he'd never have again. 

"On my back or on my knees, baby?" he continued with a smile and a soft caress, shaking off the bad memories and concentrating on the new ones being created. "Or we could always whip out the Director's gift and get creative." 

Mac's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and his mouth hung open for a second before he recovered, trying to pull his aura of world-wise youth around him. Vic wanted him to take him. Vic was going to let him call the shots. It was what he'd wanted, but it almost seemed like too much. 

"Jesus, I don't know—back?" he croaked, swallowing hard. His cock, on the other hand, seemed to show none of Mac's nervousness and jumped at the thought of pushing into the older man's body while he was spread-eagled underneath him. "Maybe save the books for later?" When things are a little more settled, he added silently. 

"Lube—shit!" Before Vic could stop him, Mac rolled off the bed and practically ran into the other room, grabbing the bag Dobie had given them and rummaging around in it for one of the tubes he'd gifted them with. Condoms? Mac's eyes darted back and forth between the bag and the door to the bedroom, and he grabbed a couple, not wanting to take any chances. 

Moving more slowly now, the teenager walked back into the room. Vic was still lying sprawled on the bed just as he'd been before, his dark jade eyes following Mac's every movement as he came back in. "Please god, don't let me fuck this up," the younger man moaned, not realizing he'd spoken the words aloud. 

"Mac, c'mere," Vic husked softly, waiting for the younger man to move next to the bed. Taking the lube from the teen's shaking hand, he set it next to his hips. The condoms he was tempted to toss but placed them next to the tube. 

He drew the younger man down into a firm hug. "Anything and everything you do is fine. You're not gonna fuck this up. What you are gonna do is fuck me, and I'm gonna love it, and you're gonna make me howl and beg for more. 

"If you want to use the condoms to feel safer go ahead, but just so you know the Agency physical had me turn up clean, and I'm not planning on being with anyone but you ever again. I trust you, Mac," Vic continued softly, his hands rubbing his baby's back gently. "I love you." 

"Well, I guess I did do a pretty good job making you howl before," Mac managed, a tiny grin quirking his lips. "And if I don't—well, we know what they say about practice." 

He stroked a hand through Vic's midnight hair, then kissed his neck, sobering when he pushed up to stare down at the older man again. "And it's not because of you that I brought them, it's because of me. When—while I was gone—well—" he sighed and rested his forehead on Vic's shoulder. "Call me paranoid, okay?" 

"Whatever you want, baby," Vic responded quietly as he ran his fingers lightly up and down Mac's back. 

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he queried, changing the subject. "I don't think I've ever seen a man as beautiful as you. I can hardly believe that you're actually here—with me. After all the shitty things I did. You're amazing, Mac." 

Arching upwards, Vic rubbed against Mac's erection, his own cock stirring to life slowly. "And you're driving me crazy. C'mon baby, inside me, please?" 

Mac ducked his head, blushing faintly, then frowned and looked sternly down at Victor. "No more talking about that right now, understand? And I'm sure you mean that I'm hot and studly, not beautiful." The last was said with a faint wrinkling of his nose. 

His hips shifted in response to Vic's movements, and Mac's grin turned sultry as he gazed down into the older man's verdant eyes. "'Sides, you're the beautiful one, Vice-man, and you're all mine." Pushing himself up to his knees, Mac ran his hands down Victor's chest, pressing them into the ridges and valleys until his palms brushed the older man's slowly stirring cock. His expression turning more serious, Mac reached for the lube and squirted some into his palm, warming the gel, before coating a finger and teasing it between Vic's legs, brushing the tip over the tight pucker of his lover's anus. 

Pushing inside, he let out a low exhalation. "That feels... Jesus, so tight!" 

Vic let out a quiet sigh of air as he felt himself penetrated. Jesus—it had been so long... Moaning as he was stretched and filled, Vic's eyes dilated to black encircled by a rim of green. 

"Mac, baby," he gasped, bucking into the finger—impaling himself further. "God, yes!" he whimpered as it brushed against his prostate, sending electric shocks ricocheting through him. 

A slow smile spread across the younger man's face at that reaction, and he pressed his finger inward again. Leaning in, he kissed Vic as his other hand played with the nipple ring dangling on the ex-cop's chest and his slicked finger brushed against the small bump within Vic's body. 

The resulting spasm of Victor's body drew a mirroring one in Mac's, and he groaned, knowing only that he had to be inside his lover—and soon! Carefully pulling the one finger out, he added a second, hoping he was stretching the older man enough because he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. "Love you, Victor," he whispered, continuing to kiss and play with as much of his partner's body as he could reach. 

Running his hands along Mac's arms, Vic smiled almost beatifically up at the younger man. "Same here, baby," he husked. 

Groping around on the bed with one hand, he came into contact with what he was looking for. Bringing the foil package up to his teeth, he carefully ripped it open and took out the condom. Crooking his finger, Vic smiled more hungrily. "C'mere. I have the urge to be corny," he grinned. 

"You mean more corny than usual?" the teen grinned, trying not to snicker. Kissing Vic to let him know he was teasing, Mac let his fingers slip from the older man's body and crawled up the bed until he was kneeling alongside Victor. "And you wanna make sure it's on right? I promise if you get knocked up, I'll do the honorable thing." Nerves were making Mac babble, and he wisely shut his mouth, biting the inside of his lower lip to keep himself silent. 

"Funny, Ramsey... then again—I'd be able to fuck the babysitter that way—you!" Vic teased right back, pushing Mac back against the bed then crawling forward until he was face to cock with the younger man's erection. 

Placing the condom on the tip of the younger man's shaft, Vic closed his lips over the latex and smoothed it down slowly, swallowing Mac deeper and deeper, relaxing his throat muscles until the condom was completely unrolled. 

Letting his tongue drag along the sensitive underside of the younger man, Vic finally let Mac pop out of his mouth and grabbed the lubrication, applying it lovingly to Mac's cock. 

Rolling back over onto his back, Vic caught his legs and pulled them up and wide. "All yours, baby," he grinned. "Come and get me!" 

"Don't you mean have the babysitter fuck you?" the younger man queried, though his voice was rough and strained from the intense way his cock had been sheathed in the rubber. Flipping over, he crowded close to Vic's body, unable to resist taking a lick of the blossoming erection between the other man's strong thighs, then running his tongue over his lips to show his piercing. 

"And I've got you all right." Taking a deep breath, Mac guided his cock to the now slick portal to Vic's body, and steadying himself, began to push in. There was a little resistance at first, but once the head made it past the muscular ring, the way suddenly became easier. 

Panting, Mac stopped, sheathed halfway in Victor's body, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he concentrated on not coming. It was so tight, so hot; it was mind-blowing, mainly because it was _Victor_ that he was inside. "Oh Jesus, oh fuck, oh god..." he whispered, trailing off into a rush of Cantonese when Vic surged upward, impaling him fully in his body. 

"Mac!" Vic yelled hoarsely as he pushed himself onto the last inches of his lover's cock. "Oh god, baby!" It was the most intense, amazing thing he'd ever felt. He was getting fucked for the first time all over again. Mac, his Mac was inside him. 

The semi-soft cock became instantly hard, and he felt the tip of Mac's erection brush his prostate. "Jesus, yes. Just what I needed, what I'll always need. Fuck me, Mac. Now, baby," the ex-cop demanded as he writhed on the impaling spike of his lover. 

Instead of answering verbally, Mac slid a hand under Vic's neck, pulling him upward to claim his lips in a harsh kiss, his tongue invading his lover's mouth as his hips began thrusting back and forth, driving his cock deep within Vic's body, feeling new explosions of ecstasy with each plunge into the other man's clinging depths. 

Vic's cock slapped against their bellies, and he pressed closer, rubbing against the hard length. One hand fisted in the sheets, and the other tangled in the ex-cop's ebony hair as Mac forced his eyes open—and found himself falling into the deep green pools of his lover's gaze. 

_So close_ , Vic thought as Mac devoured his mouth; he was so close to coming and his cock wasn't being touched other than being rubbed against their bellies. Drawing back slightly, Vic nibbled on Mac's lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and darting his tongue out to caress the piercing that decorated Mac's. 

Vic's hands raced down Mac's back to cup the younger man's ass, pulling him in closer with each stroke and his legs spread even wider, falling flat against the bed in order to gently squeeze down on the impaling cock. 

"So good, lover, so deep and perfect. Feels like heaven—like home. Love you, baby," Vic moaned, his eyes never leaving Mac's. He saw everything he'd ever wanted, everything he considered important in their smoky depths, and he let himself get lost. Feeling his body tighten even more, Vic let loose a tiny whimper of ecstasy, and then he was coating their stomachs with strings of semen, causing their stomachs to slide even more slickly against each other. 

It was like being caught in a rippling velvet vise, and Mac felt his whole body shudder as Vic came apart beneath him. Bellowing out the older man's name, Mac exploded, sending gouts of semen deep within Vic's body, indelibly claiming the other man as his own. Even when his climax waned, Mac kept moving, unable to stop, knowing only that he needed this as much as breath. 

"Need you so much," he gasped, brushing his lips against Vic's, then licking along the other man's perfectly formed chin. "Never, never leave." 

"Shhh, baby," Vic hushed, his hands stroking the younger man's back, quieting him. "I'll never leave you and never let you go. You're home, Mac, right where you belong. With me and in me. Together, remember, baby? Everything together." 

Feeling the tension finally drain out of the ex-thief, Vic pulled Mac down to rest on top of him. "Quite the homecoming," the ex-cop chuckled at last, raining tender kisses over whatever part of Mac he could reach. "I think we need to christen every room in the place like this... and then do it again." 

Giving his lover a light nip on his collarbone, Mac licked at the spot, listening to Vic's husky voice, feeling the rumbles from the older man's chest vibrating through his whole being. He lay still, sprawled bonelessly on Victor's body, luxuriating in the feel of Vic's hands moving over his body, then his shoulders began to quiver. When Mac finally raised his head to look at his lover, his dark eyes were shining with barely suppressed humor. 

"You think you're up to that, old man?" he snickered, waggling his eyebrows for effect, then bursting into laughter at Vic's outraged expression. 

"Brat," Vic growled playfully, bringing a hand down to swat Mac's ass and groaning as it drove Mac's cock a little further into his still quivering anus. "God, baby, if anyone could inspire me like that, it's you. Besides I'm imagining a long, drawn out process. I say we order in, stay naked except to answer the door, and make sure to hit each room—even the balcony. I wanna see you sitting on my lap, riding me on one of the loungers underneath a cloudless night sky. And then you can do the same thing to me," he purred. 

Shifting so that Mac finally pulled out, Vic rolled them both to their sides. "I love you so much, Mac. Never thought I'd feel alive again, have something to live for... but here you are, in our bed. God, how did I ever get so lucky?" 

"Here we are," Mac corrected, shivering a bit at the images Vic's words caused to spring to life in his mind. "And I think we're both lucky. It could have turned out so many other ways..." His voice trailed off, and his expression turned troubled before he shook his head, clearing his gaze. 

"Now I think you said something about other rooms," he purred, tossing the used condom aside and rubbing against Vic's body, spreading his now cool semen between them. "Wanna try the shower or the kitchen next or break in the other bed?" Most of the furniture in the condo was new—replaced by the Agency during their training so as to avoid any unpleasant memories for either of the agents. And now Mac was eager to break each and every piece of it in. 

Vic shook off his mood with a chuckle. "Did I mention that the bathtub is big enough to comfortably fit four and it's a whirlpool tub?" he grinned at the younger man. 

Mac's whoop of delight had Vic out and out laughing. God, he was... "You are so _cute_!" he grinned at the ex-thief then ducked as a fist was swung at him. "Go start the tub, baby. I'll go see if I've got anything we can drink while we're in there—can't let ourselves get too dehydrated," he teased. 

Climbing off the bed with a tiny wince, Vic wandered out the bedroom and into the kitchen. Alcohol still held no appeal for him after his descent into depression, but he was damn thirsty. Opening the fridge, the older man was surprised to find it fully stocked. "Well they're efficient; gotta give them that," he murmured as he leaned into the open door to see just what they'd left them. 

Having turned on the water and taken a moment to explore the variety of bath oils and soaps that had been arranged on one of the shelves near the deep tub, Mac glanced toward the doorway, then hugged himself hard. This was real, this was the rest of his life, and this was exactly what he wanted. 

No way he'd ever believed any of it a year ago, but the Mac Ramsey standing there today was a far cry from the spoiled mobster's son he'd been back then. "Am gonna get this right," he muttered to himself, selecting one of the oils with a citrus scent and placing it beside the tub. 

When he strolled out of the bedroom, Mac was treated to a sight that had his grin widening. "Hmmm, maybe I should go turn off the water," he purred, crowding up behind Victor, who was still leaning into the fridge. "Or we might flood the place if we get distracted in here." 

Vic grinned and pushed back into Mac's groin, wriggling slightly. "Mmm - tempting thought, baby. However, I want a bath. Wanna get the scent of Agency bootcamp off so I can end up smelling of you and me only." 

Finally deciding on a bottle of sparkling lemonade, Vic pulled it out, pressing back into Mac as he closed the refrigerator door. Handing the younger man the cold bottle by pressing it into his chest, Vic grinned and grabbed two glasses. "How bout we go get warm and wet and slippery?" he suggested as he watched Mac with a contented smile. It was good to have him home at last. 

Yelping at the sudden cold against his skin, Mac almost dropped the bottle before recovering. "Warm, wet and slippery is _very_ good," he finally answered, crowding up behind Vic again and licking the side of the older man's neck. When Vic purred, Mac brought the cold bottle into contact with his ass. 

Laughing so hard that he could barely run, Mac led Vic on a chase through the condo that ended with the slamming of the bathroom door, followed by a loud splash as two bodies tumbled into the tub. 

"You are such a brat," Vic laughed as he emerged from the water, splashing a handful towards the younger man and chasing the water so that he could tackle Mac. "But you're my brat. Love you, Mac," Vic sighed as he cradled the younger man in his arms, letting the heat of the water seep into his bones, as they both semi-floated in the water's embrace. 

* * *

A carefully manicured scarlet fingernail pressed against a button on a remote control, ejecting the tape from the video recorder even as the next machine began to whir, copying down the feed from the condominium at Queen's Quay. 

"Now isn't that sweet," the Director murmured to herself, her lips pursed together in a parody of a smile. "And think what you want, boys. The truth of the matter is; you both belong to me. Eventually you'll get used to it." 

10/18/00

* * *

Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] and [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby 5   
Other websites: <http://thesleepydragon.com/>   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: Part 5 of our AU where Victor and Mac met while Vic was still a cop and Mac was a teenaged thief with the Tangs.   
Thanks to Ori for the beta!   
Summary: It's graduation day from the Agency training camp for the boys - you know what that means   
---


	7. VI: Little Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part VI  
Little Sisters**

Victor took his time lathering up his hands, then began to apply the thick, sandalwood foam to the young man standing in front of him, carding his fingers through the pelt of dark hair. He luxuriated in the feel of his lover's supple skin, breathed in the spicy aroma of the soap and the underlying muskiness that was uniquely his young love. Taking his time, making sure ever inch of the taut, muscled chest in front of him was covered, Victor began to trace lazy patterns in the suds, a smile playing over his mobile lips at the young man's groan of need. "Like that, hmmm? And I've only just begun to play," the older man smirked as his hands returned once more to the bar of soap and began to lather up again. 

* * *

Alice (call me Allegra) Mansfield stepped off the train at Union Station, thanking whatever gods were smiling down on her that her next eldest sibling had given up his rathole apartment in the Annex and had moved to the condo at Queens Quay. For one, the view of Toronto harbor and the islands was spectacular, two, it was a two bedroom condo, perfect for big brother and a guest, and even better—it was close, and she knew how to get there without having call Vic for a ride. Which meant she could surprise him. 

And then beg him to let her live with him because there was no way she was going back home. Dad was a military fascist jerk, and Mom was your typical powder puff consumer wife who let him walk all over her. There was no way Allegra was gonna end up one of the undead in mom and pop megamall minivan land. She was going to save the world. 

Which was why she and dad had the blow up. He wanted her to start taking 'smart' courses in a private school: political science, math, law, computer sciences, anything that would either get her a corporate job or land her a corporate husband. That was so not going to happen. She was not going to get sucked into the private school, cookie cutter, turn me into a happy zoned out consumer education factory! 

Walking over to the streetcars, Allegra smiled and hefted her bag over her shoulder. Look out Toronto, Allegra Mansfield was out to save the world! 

* * *

Victor stood above his lover, who was bent almost double, clutching the towel bar for dear life, and powered in and out of the tight, wet heat that sucked at his throbbing length. He could feel the younger man rhythmically contract and release his cock as he thrust in and out of that tight, sweet channel. The wailing cry the younger man emitted bounced off the ceramic tiles and echoed back like a symphony of lust and heat. It was heavenly. 

He let one hand go and moved it up to tweak and pull at a distended button of flesh, causing an even more piteous moan of need. "Touch yourself, baby," the ex-cop turned shadowy government agent urged, his voice dark and smoky with need. "Go on, stroke yourself. Come for me, Mac; I wanna feel you squeeze down on my cock like a vise and make me howl. Come on, baby. Do it!" 

"Vi-ic!" Sure that he was going to lose his grip and be smashed face first into the tiled wall by the strength of his lover's thrusts but also not really caring if that happened as long as Victor just kept moving, Mac peeled his fingers from their death grip on the chrome rod. God, this was bliss, or would be as soon as he could touch himself, something that was made difficult by the way Vic's deft manipulations of his body tended to short-circuit Mac's thought processes. 

Whimpering in the back of his throat, Mac reared back enough to lift his head, then stared, transfixed, into the shaving mirror above the rack he clung to. Bent over as he was, Victor loomed over Mac, the beads of water on his skin catching the light and adding golden accents to his chest and arms. The same light reflected in the raven's wing sweep of hair across the ex-cop's forehead and cast his hypnotizing green eyes into shadows, ones that were only deepened by the thick eyelashes that were half-closed over them. 

God, Vic was magnificent. Perfect, wonderful... Mac's thoughts dissolved into a silent howl as Victor closed his fingers around his nipple again, attacking the sensitized flesh as voraciously as the older man was pounding into his body. The conscious muscle control that Mac needed to keep up the internal massage he had been subjecting Vic's cock to slipped, then failed altogether as the Mac's flailing hand came into contact with his aching erection. 

"That's it, yeah. Fuck, you are so hot, baby," Vic growled as he continued to thrust into Mac. "I love how you feel around me, like silk, wrapped tight and hot. You squeeze me so good. And the little noises you make. Do you know what that does to me? Drives me fucking wild. I love being able to make you moan and shake. No one has ever, _ever_ made me feel like this. You make me crazy Ramsey. Mine, so very, very mine!" 

Victor's husky voice was the perfect background, especially considering the hot, urgent words that were slipping from his all too talented lips. Mac managed less then a dozen thrusts into his palm before he came, screaming out the other man's name as his body clamped down on Victor's cock, his creamy white jism splattering on the wall in front of him. 

Bending forward, Victor's mouth latched onto Mac's shoulder, his teeth breaking the skin's surface as the younger man's contractions forced his own aching cock to explode, inundating him with his come. Drawing in a shaky breath, Vic forced his jaw open and licked softly at the tiny crimson droplets he'd caused to be shed. 

"Mac... baby," his voice quivered as he withdrew from his young love, only to draw the lithe body before him into a tight hug. "I love you, god, how I love you, Mac Ramsey," the older man whispered fervently, raining kisses over the smooth expanse of shoulders and nape of his love's neck. 

Vic's legs, however, weren't up to standing after all the energy he expended loving his partner and he had to brace one arm against the wall lest they both collapse into the tub. "Thank god it's Saturday. I think I could do with a few more hours in bed; the open air market can wait 'til tonight," Vic chuckled as he turned off the now tepid water. Stepping out of the shower, he brushed a kiss over the petal soft lips of the younger man's mouth. "Care to join me?" 

* * *

Allegra stepped off the streetcar in front of her brother's building and quickly crossed the street. After convincing the guard on duty that she was, in fact, Victor Mansfield's younger sister, she got on the elevator and headed up to the eighth floor, Suite Number 89. This was getting better and better. Her student card with her name on it had been all it took to convince the security guard to let her have a spare key. Vic was gonna be soooo surprised! 

* * *

"Still wanna go dancing tonight," Mac mumbled, snagging the bedsheet and flipping it up over his back against the chill of the air conditioning. As he was sprawled out indolently in his favorite position, namely across and over Victor's chest, the older man didn't need any such covering, but Mac wasn't in the mood to wake up with a cold ass. 

Victor grunted a sleepy answer that had Mac smiling even as he placed a kiss under the other man's jaw, then relaxed, giving himself over to the lethargic languor that always resulted from their more intense bouts of lovemaking. "Not getting out of it, Vice-man. Been promising too," the former thief yawned and snuggled closer, his arm tightening around Vic's waist, "long." The last word was breathed out as a sigh when Mac's eyelids slid all the way closed, and he fell asleep, a small half-smile still quirking the corners of his lips. 

"S'not music—it's machine noise," Victor chuckled his usual retort, kissing Mac's forehead lightly and wrapping his arms more securely around his blanket. Victor loved lazy Saturdays with nothing to do but Mac. It almost made him feel like he had a life that wasn't 'owned' by the Agency. Smiling softly, Victor soon followed his lover into oblivion. 

* * *

Alice quietly let herself into the apartment, ready to yell surprise when Victor spun around from cleaning or whatever. Except, there was no Victor cleaning, or whatever. He was probably grocery shopping or something. Might as well make herself at home. Throwing her jacket over the new leather?! - when did Vic get into leather furniture??—couch, picked up her duffel bag and headed into the spare bedroom. Except it looked lived in—constantly lived in. 

There was a blue chambray shirt thrown over the bed along with a towel that was still damp. The shirt was way too small for Vic, but was definitely a man's. There were clothes in the closet; some she recognized as her older brother's shirts and the like, but other stuff she didn't. Especially the virgin wool winter jacket—Vic hated wearing wool, said it made him break out in hives and itch. And it was definitely the wrong size again. What was going on here? 

There was a _very_ expensive laptop on a new chrome and steel desk. Jiggling the mouse, Alice saw a password protect pop up. Since when did Vic need his stuff password protected? Picking up the CD lying next to the keyboard, Alice glanced at the artist—Vic was listening to The Cure? This was getting more and more bizarre. 

Shrugging, she popped the tape into her walkman and went to throw herself on the slaughtered couch to await big brother's arrival home. Mysteries were never her strong point—they were more Vic's, which was why he was such a good cop. Or he used to be; now he just worked for the government consumer brain-washing moguls that were corrupting society. She really needed to have a talk with Victor about his career choices. 

* * *

The first thing Vic became aware of was the warm, sweet weight on top of him. The second thing that drew his attention was the position of the sun. It looked like they'd slept a good two hours away. The third thing he noticed, and it was very difficult to avoid noticing, was that both he and Mac were once more sporting sizable erections. Which meant—oh damn, what a shame—they'd have to do something to relieve them! 

Nuzzling the younger man's neck happily, Victor set about waking up his lover in the most pleasant way possible. Hands began to move over Mac's hard body, awakening and arousing sleepy flesh. Vic's mouth moved over his lover's face, neck and shoulders, teasing and tormenting and smiling when he heard the breathy moans and soft curses. "Tiew, geng hi lah, Vic... more... tiew wo, lan-tan!" 

"Such a nasty mouth, pretty baby, do you really want me to fuck you?" 

"Oh my god, MOOSE?!?" 

Vic's head whipped away from Mac's mouth, nearly breaking the younger man's nose in the process. Staring, speechless, at the young woman in the doorway, he finally managed to choke out, "Alice!" 

"What the-?!" Mac exclaimed, one hand going to his now aching nose, the other scrabbling in the drawer of the bedside table for his gun, retrieving it and aiming it at the intruder before he even registered what was going on in the room. 

How the fuck did someone get in here? Okay, the Director, Dobrinsky and even Jackie managed to find their way in with unnerving regularity, but this... little girl? Who seemed to know Victor... 

Carefully, the ex-thief flipped the safety back on his weapon, then glanced over at his lover, who was doing a good imitation of a fish gasping for breath on dry land. "Moose?" Mac asked, trying not to snicker. 

"Alice... what the hell are you doing here?! And don't you _ever_ call me Moose, Ramsey. My name is Vic, got it?" Vic managed to sputter after a moment. 

"But Moose you're in bed, NAKED in bed, with another GUY!" Allegra wailed in disbelief. _A honey of a guy no less_ , she thought with a heartbroken sigh. It was bad enough that Vic could stop traffic 'cause he was so unbelievably gawk worthy, but did he have to steal all the cute guys too?! 

"Alice—go wait in the living room, NOW!" he roared when the young woman began to sputter. "Don't say a word, Mac, not one damn word. She's my sister —the one who's—almost the same age as you. Don't you dare tell her how old you are—I will be so dead. That little girl's tongue is as sharp as a switchblade at times, and I don't fancy getting sliced up tonight. Fuck!" 

In the living room Allegra Mansfield paced feverishly, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Vic in bed with a guy. Her big brother in bed—and obviously _doing it_ with a guy. A really cute guy, a really young cute guy! What the hell was Vic into? This was so... unreal. Moaning, she threw herself into a chair. She could not believe this was happening! 

Mac looked from the now empty doorway to his obviously distressed lover and couldn't resist one final quip. "It okay if I call you Bullwinkle then?" 

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, having gotten Vic somewhat calmed down and his own frustrated desire under control, Mac popped out of the bedroom, now fully dressed in what he thought of as his university kid clothes. "Hey," he grinned, strolling into the living room and heading for the kitchen. "Vic'll be out in a few minutes; can I get you anything to drink?" As he spoke, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and held it up questioningly. "Your name's Alice, right? I'm Mac, guess telling you I'm your brother's roommate isn't gonna work, eh?" 

Carrying two bottles of water, he returned and gave one to their guest, then dropped down into the chair across from her, studying her intently. "You have a problem with it, take off now. He deals with enough shit daily without having it come down from his family as well. You're cool, I'm cool, but you hurt him and--" his smile turned dangerous for a split second then changed back to one of affable cheer. "Just don't do it, understand?" 

Vic stood in the shadows of the hallway, watching his lover protect him. They'd come such a long way, he thought with a smile. How he deserved someone like Mac in his life he couldn't quite fathom, but he'd be damned if he was ever letting his personal 'thief of hearts' go. Not waiting to hear Alice's response, Vic joined them in the living room. Moving over to stand next to the younger man, Vic took Mac's hand and brought it up to his lips for a quick kiss. "Thank you," he said simply, his eyes showing all the love in his heart. 

Turning to his sister, eyes still soft, he grinned ruefully. "Guess I kinda gave you a shock, didn't I? But what are you doing here, Alice? Do Mother and Father know where you are? Not that I mind you being here, I mean;- it's just that if I'd had a little advance notice, chances are you wouldn't have walked in on Mac and me in bed. We'd have picked you up instead, sweetie." 

"Vic... you... he... you're like a couple?" Allegra finally managed to stutter out. She was still a little dazed by the whole situation and more than a little intimidated by the 'kid' her brother was shacked up with. 

The slight tensing of Mac's hand, still in his own, gave Vic all the warning he needed. Sitting on the arm of the chair he draped his arm around Mac's shoulders, and using the other hand, he turned Mac's head towards him. "It's okay, baby," he murmured softly. "She's got every right to be more than a little shocked and confused. There's... well, history that I consider dead and unimportant, but Alice knows about. Thank you for protecting me though." 

Turning towards his sister, Vic tried again. "Alice..." 

"Allegra." 

"What?" 

"My name. It's one of the reasons why I'm here. Dad and I—we had a major blow out. He wanted me to go into a private school and become either one of the corporate elite like Chuck—excuse me, _Charles Jr._ —or a happy little zoned out consumer house wife married to a corporate elite. I mean I'm 16, for cryin' out loud, and he's already planning the social wedding of the year, so I... ran away from home." 

Continuing quickly so Vic couldn't interrupt, Allegra rushed on. "I want to change the world, Moose, and you can't do that from Mom and Pop mega-mall mini van land. So here I am. And the name is step one. I'm no Alice—Alice is so like... well Dad. I'm Allegra. It means quick and lively in Italian —kinda like me," the youngest Mansfield grinned at her older brother. She'd always like Moose the best. He was so _normal_. And a rebel, just like she was now. Vic was the one she'd always looked up to in the family, not Chuckie boy—the dweeb. 

"Alice—I mean Allegra. You're just a kid," he grunted softly at the elbow in his side and Mac's quirked eyebrow. "You're only 16," he continued, avoiding another discreet jab. 

"Yeah, so—you weren't much older when you... left home," she pointed out meaningfully. 

"I couldn't get a long with Dad." 

"Well, duhhh." 

"Alice, where are you going to stay?" Victor sighed, resigned that he was bound to lose this battle. 

The youngest Mansfield quirked her lips, her eyes turning into a puppy's, a soft pout extending her lower lip. Then she batted her eyelashes. "Mooose..." 

"No—oh no. You can't stay here... my work is too dangerous..." 

"But Mac lives with you, Moose," Allegra pointed out logically. "Besides, I always wanted a brother closer to my age to hang out with," she admitted softly. 

Vic's eyes glazed over and his breath caught in his throat. "You mean you're... okay with this?" he asked tentatively. 

Looking from Vic, to Mac and back again, Allegra shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "Hey—it was waay obvious from the noises you two were making that he makes you happy. And it's obvious to anyone—well except maybe to the parents and the dweeb, that you two love each other. So... so long as you're happy—and he makes you happy, I'm happy. Oh, and Mac? What you said earlier? It cuts both ways—you hurt my favorite big brother and I make _you_ real sorry. Are we cool?" she finished, arching a brunette eyebrow inquiringly. 

While watching Alice—err Allegra—handle her big brother with the ease of a pro, Mac had been hard pressed to keep from laughing aloud. When she assured Vic that she was fine with their relationship and threatened his safety if he hurt Victor, however, the ex-thief felt real affection for the driven young woman. "Allegra," Mac laughed, grinning up at Vic, who wore an expression of stunned happiness, then at his lover's sister, "we're ice." 

* * *

"God, that place was packed!" Mac laughed, lowering his voice half-way through the sentence when he realized he was still shouting. The club had been great—loud, crowded and playing the best dance music around. The mixed crowd had made it easy for the three of them to dance together or in various combinations though Mac had had to laugh at the way Vic growled when anyone else asked his baby sister to dance. 

The sweltering atmosphere in the club had plastered Mac's shirt to his chest, and, after flapping it a few times to attempt to cool himself off, he gave up and simply unbuttoned it, letting the sweat-darkened material hang open at his sides. "Anyone up for a walk by the water, or is the Mansfield clan pooped?" 

"Define pooped," Vic smirked at the younger man, his eyes darkening appreciatively at his lover's exposed body. Despite his protestation about the 'noise' the younger generation called music and the fact that he couldn't even get a beer at the all ages club, which was actually a good thing considering the droves of already over-excited teens in the place, Vic had had a great time. He was quite willing to go a few more hours. Hopefully, alone with his significant other—plastered over Mac the way that shirt was. 

Mac returned the smirk and moved in a bit closer to the older man, still staying within the boundaries of propriety for Allegra's sake, but obviously wanting to get into Vic's space just as much as Vic wanted to get into the ex-thief's. 

Allegra watched the interplay between the two men and rolled her eyes. Could those two be anymore obvious if they tried? Sheesh—they were practically salivating, but considering what she'd interrupted earlier in the day, chances were they were feeling a little on edge. Deciding to be kind to the two men, she held out her hand imperiously in the general direction of both. "I had fun, you two obviously want to have more 'fun', and there are some things little sister's just should not be witness to. So hand me a set of keys, give me an hour to fall asleep, and come on back so you can boff like bunnies—just do it quietly okay? A girl needs her beauty rest after all, even if she is intent on saving the world! Night, Moose, night, 'baby!'" Giggling at the stunned look on both Mac and Vic's faces, she snatched Mac's keys and headed into the condo. Life was good. 

Vic, after getting over gaping like fish for the second time that day, snorted at the identical stunned expression on his lover's. "So, you mentioned something about a walk along the water, baby?" he asked, a snicker in his voice. 

Realizing that he was standing there, mouth agape, his hand still hanging there as it had been when Allegra took his keys, Mac blinked, rubbing his face, to convince himself that had really happened. "God, I hope she never meets the Director," he mumbled before chuckling and moving to snake an arm around Vic's waist, pulling the older man close. "And if she keeps calling me 'baby', everyone at work is gonna hear about our little antlered friend, capisce?" 

Before Vic could answer, Mac pulled him in for a kiss, their tongues tangling as their hands groped for whatever bits of bare flesh could be found. It had been a long day, and their interrupted make-out session had never been far from Mac's mind, and now he wanted to do something about it. "As for that walk, how about we find a nice quiet spot and neck until it's time to go home, hmmm?" The question was purred into Vic's ear as Mac's hands roamed over his ass. 

"Hey, capisce, that's Italian," Vic teased breathlessly, ignoring the nick name crack. He'd have a talk with Alice in the morning. 

Grabbing the younger man's hand, he began to head determinedly around the side of the building to the little park next to the boat slips. If he remembered correctly, there was a really large boulder that they could hide behind. The grass was soft, and at this time of night the park should be deserted. 

Pulling Mac down within the cradle of his thighs, Vic's hands began to roam lightly over his lover's body. "Would rather have you naked and under me, moaning and begging for me to fuck you raw, baby, but necking will do for now," Vic moaned, latching on to the ex-thief's throat and suckling hungrily on the skin there. 

"And here I thought you weren't multilingual," Mac chuckled as he was dragged off the main path and behind the huge piece of granite. He relaxed back against Vic's body, moaning quietly as the near pain of the older man's mouth on his throat merged with the hot words he had spoken to drive a spike of need straight through Mac's groin. 

"Nobody's around; I say go for it," he gasped, wriggling back to rub his hip against the straining bulge in Vic's jeans, feeling the corresponding jump in his own cock at the older man's groan and the way Vic's fingers clutched at his skin. "I'm up for a little public indecency if you are, Vice-man, less chance we'll wake Allegra that way too." 

"Hey, my tongue can be very lingual and multi when it wants to," Vic rejoined, moaning softly. Stripping his signature leather jacket off, he placed it over Mac's lap with a soft nip to the younger man's throat. "Mine. Nobody even gets a remote chance at seeing it," he informed the younger man. 

Nimble fingers made short work of the buttons and zips on Mac's pants, and soon Victor had Mac's hard length resting against the palm of his hand. Slowly he wrapped his fingers around his lover's girth and began to smooth his hand first up, then down the sweet flesh cradled in his hand. 

"God, I love how you feel in my hand," Vic murmured. "Smooth like velvet but so hard. When I touch you like this, I can feel your blood pulse just below the skin, can tell when your heart speeds up not just by your breathing but by what my fingers tell me. Then you start to leak precum, and it gets all slick and wet, just like now, and the velvet becomes a silky glide, but there's the slightest amount of friction from your skin. If I trace my finger, like this, down the underside, you make the most delicious sounds, like that one," Vic chuckled as Mac whimpered piteously. 

"And if I do the same with my nails," Vic's hand clamped over Mac's mouth to stifle the younger man's howl, "I get that reaction." Bringing his free hand up Vic began to weave his fingers through the soft curls on the ex-thief's chest in order to get to his lover's nipples. "Now if I stroke like this," he began a steady, firm pumping of Mac's needy flesh. "And do this," Vic pinched one of Mac's nipples lightly causing the younger man to shudder and buck underneath him. "I get that reaction," he chuckled. 

"And if I trail my fingers down, I've got two lovely balls to roll in my palm like so, and I can still stroke and tickle and tease your gorgeous cock at the same time. But you know what I love most of all, baby?" Vic queried softly. "I love the look on your face when you cum quietly. That look of intense, mind blowing rapture that you get. I've cum myself just from watching you find that look. Cum for me baby, now, please," the ex-cop breathed before reaching up and turning Mac's face so he could watch his lover climax. "Cum for me, pretty baby." 

Lost in the spell woven by Vic's husked out words and his deft actions, all Mac could do was moan and bite at his lower lip to keep the desperate cries from echoing out into the night air around them. This was Victor at his best. How could anyone think of the ex-cop as staid when he was capable of such things as Mac knew he was? _Their loss_ , the younger man thought almost hysterically, whimpering and writhing within the circle of Vic's arms at each comment and action. 

How, in four short months, Victor had managed not only to learn each and every one of his hot spots but also the best ways to push them amazed Mac. Hell, there was something to be said for attention to detail after all! 

Whimpering as Vic stroked his aching cock with one hand while the other one rubbed his cheek and jaw, Mac tilted his head back farther, his eyes locked on Victor's. The coalescing of sensation around that firm, rough hand stroking over his dick made Mac want to close his eyes, but he kept them open, knowing Vic wanted to see him, watch his reactions to his fast approaching climax. "Need..." he whimpered, his hands clawing at Vic's arm, pressing the other man's hand hard against his crotch just as Mac thrust upward, the first spasms of his climax shaking his body, causing his expression to twist into one of unimaginable pleasure. 

Through the whole thunderous experience, however, the young man kept his eyes open and trained on his lover's, showing him what he couldn't say just then. 

"So beautiful," Vic husked, his eyes glittering in the soft light. Disengaging his hand, Victor eased it out from underneath the jacket and smeared a damp finger against Mac's mouth before plundering it softly. "Thank you, love. That was a wonder to watch." Bringing the moist hand up to his lips, Vic cleaned himself with long, catlike strokes of his tongue, before sliding his hand back under the jacket to help right Mac's appearance. 

"I think Alice will be asleep by now," he whispered, nibbling on the younger man's ear. "And I want to see every inch of you naked and spread out on our bed. I want to be in you so deep I'll never find my way out, not that I'd want to," Vic grinned. 

Finally setting Mac to rights, he removed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. "Ready to go home, baby?" 

Mac moaned incoherently as he stumbled to his feet, his eyes still unfocused and his brain clouded with the aftereffects of his intense orgasm and Vic's hot, demanding words. "Hope you got your keys," he mumbled, grinning blearily into his lover's darkened eyes, then making a face at the older man's laughter and his comment that they could always wake Alice up to get in. 

"No fuckin' way! I don't wanna play nice, and I _really_ don't want her walking in on us again today. Once is more then enough for that no matter how cute she is!" Running a hand through his sweat-spiked hair, Mac grinned and strolled out onto the path ahead of Victor, making sure to give the older man quite a show of what he had to look forward to once they got back home. "Coming, Moose?" he asked, then took off for their building, Victor in hot pursuit. 

Vic caught up to Mac in the elevator, and, reminiscent of their first time together, slammed the younger man up against the elevator wall and proceeded to try and swallow Mac whole. "One day," the older man panted when he broke the kiss to breathe again, "one day I'm gonna come prepared and hit the emergency button, then I'm going to fuck you senseless in an elevator. Don't know which one or when, but by god, I'm gonna do it," Victor growled, rubbing against his lover. 

The opening of the elevator doors was the only thing that prevented Vic from resuming his assault, but it didn't stop him from swatting Mac's ass rather hard as they got out of the elevator. "Move it, _baby_ , and if you keep calling me that, am gonna have to start calling you _pretty_ baby around Alice—bet she'd love that." 

Vic laughed softly at the dirty look Mac shot over his shoulder and deliberately crowded the younger man into the door as he opened it, rubbing his erection against Mac's sweet ass. "That's what's gonna be buried inside you in less that ten minutes, baby. Deep inside you, so deep I'll get lost. Your ass is mine kiddo—all mine!" Vic purred softly. 

"Want you hot and naked and waiting for me. Gotta check on Alice; meet you in the bedroom." Turning, Victor made sure the door was locked tight before heading to the guestroom to check on his exhausted and sleeping sister. Walking softly into the room, he drew the blankets up to her chin and brushed her baby soft hair out of her eyes. Bending, he kissed her forehead gently before whispering. "Missed you, kiddo, glad you found me again." 

Turning, Vic saw Mac standing in the doorway watching, and wiped a stray tear out of his eye. Motioning the younger man out before him, he shut the door and took Mac's hand, drawing him into their room. "Love you, Mac Ramsey," he whispered before his eyes took on a sensual glint. "Now get naked." 

"Or what?" Mac teased, adoring the tender side of his lover that came out so infrequently unless they were alone, but also wanting to see the other, wilder side of the older man. "Can't threaten to nail me to the door; Allegra would hear." 

Easing backward, Mac kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his damp shirt, then tossed it in the general direction of the clothes basket, not letting his attention waver from Victor, who was now stalking him. "Gonna have to be quieter then we were that time in the airport parking garage unless little sis is a _very_ sound sleeper." Now the fasteners on his pants were undone, and the soft linen slid down Mac's legs to pool on the floor, leaving the ex-thief wearing only his boxers which showed the evidence of their earlier excursion to the park. 

"So what ya gonna do, Vice-man?" he laughed, sliding back onto the bed, balancing there on his knees, grinning cockily at Victor, goading him on. "Play it safe, or take a chance?" 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to his lover, Vic smiled and very calmly began removing his clothes. "Well, let's weigh the pros and cons. Have to be responsible," he managed to get out with a straight face as his shirt came off. 

"On the plus side there's being able to make love with the man I adore. The hot, tight velvet of your body surrounding me as I'm moving in and out of you, teasing your incredibly sexy body and my own until I make you scream and I come fast and furious inside you." 

Next Vic bent to slide off his deck shoes and socks before straightening to work on his jeans. "On the negative side there's the fact that _you_ are the screamer in the family, and Alice is a light sleeper. Last thing we want is for her to come barreling in here and getting a close up of either of our asses—not good at all. And there's the fact that we promised to take her to the open-air bazaar tomorrow after we have brunch. Maybe it would be best if I just go take a shower and jack off, then we can 'snuggle'," Vic continued as he stood to pull off his jeans and boxers, shooting an 'I'm sorry baby but it's probably for the best' look over his shoulder. 

Mac was off the bed like a shot, tackling his lover and sending them both to the floor in a tangle of half-removed clothes and flying limbs. "No fucking way!" he growled, settling himself astride Vic's lean hips and pinning the ex-cop's hands at his sides. "Try it, just try it, and you'll wake up tomorrow morning with your balls painted blue!" 

Shifting enough to trap Vic's hands between the other man's body and Mac's knees, the younger man slid his fingers along his partner's ribs before slowly running them over Vic's sensitive nipples. "Now what was it you were saying about _me_ being the only one who screams, Moose? I seem to recall several times when you've just about shattered the windows from this alone." 

Vic moaned and bucked upwards, biting down on his lip to keep from screaming. "Jesus," he gasped. "Guess that means the shower is out." Wriggling ineffectively to try and get out from under the younger man. "Mac, oh fuck! Uncle! I give, baby, you make me howl like a dog in heat, I admit it! Now can we at least take this to the bed; I had rug burns on my ass for a week the last time we did this," Vic moaned, then begged. 

"Aww, but rubbing that aloe vera lotion on your ass was fun," Mac laughed, remembering the Director's comments about Victor's gingerly way of moving and sitting after that had happened—get more padding under the carpet and a deeper pile indeed! "But I guess I can let you off easy this time, though I'm rethinking this you being in me tonight—wanna wrestle for position, lover?" With a maniacal grin, Mac bounded off Vic's chest, kicking out of his boxers and balancing on his toes, inviting the other man's lunge. "Doubt Allegra will hear a few bumps and bounces." 

Vic eyed his lover as if the younger man had gone insane, stood up, walked over and placed a chair in front of the bedroom door, then turned and lunged at the younger man, catching him by surprise and pinning him to the bed quickly. "Provincial wrestling champ three years running in high school, plus won the academy trophy, and then there was all the on the job training," he smirked down at the younger man. "Wanna try again?" 

Before Mac could answer, Vic swooped down and began to ravage his soft, succulent mouth, thinking it was an effective way to keep the younger man quiet. Christ, if he didn't get inside his baby's tight heat he'd go nuts, his cock was aching so bad. Thrusting it against Mac's burgeoning erection, he felt their shafts slick each other up with pre-cum, felt the glide of moist flesh against flesh and bit down on the tasty lower lip he was suckling on. 

"God... Vic... more," Mac gasped out, slurring the words around his outstretched lower lip, parting his legs more so that Victor could settle deeper between them, increasing the friction of their needy flesh. The older man's mouth trailed wetly over his skin to latch onto his neck, and Mac twisted underneath him, now biting his own lip to keep from shouting out his pleasure as his lover marked him. 

One grasping hand found and grabbed the tube of lube they kept on the bedside table and dragged it closer, pressing the container into Vic's hand. "How about we just say you pinned me and get on to the celebrating part?" the ex-thief moaned, placing his hands on his knees and pulling them closer to his chest on either side of Vic's body, as desperate to get the other man into him as he was to be there. 

Vic stared down at the younger man hotly. "Fuck—watching you like this..." he trailed off, totally enthralled. Mac's moan snapped him out of his reverie, however, and Vic quickly lubed his cock then took the slick fingers and began to stretch his lover carefully, not wanting to hurt Mac in the slightest way. 

Chuckling at the sudden spewing of blue Chinese, Vic figured the younger man had had enough. Slotting himself between Mac's thighs, Vic rolled them so that Mac was on top. "In the name of fair play and all that," he managed to gasp out, "I pinned you—now how about you pin yourself on me?" 

"Works by me," Mac gasped, pushing up to his knees and reaching behind himself to find Victor's erection. Then, with a quiet moan, he settled onto the hard shaft, biting his lower lip to keep from voicing his appreciation in a louder manner. 

"God, so deep in me," he sighed, watching the older man through half-lidded eyes as he began to raise and lower himself on the strong column impaling him. "Feels so goddamned good." As he spoke, Mac's hand drifted up from Vic's chest to his cock, and the young man began stroking himself in time to his leisurely movements, bringing himself to a full erection once again and adding the stimulation of tightening his muscles around his lover on each downstroke. 

"Do you have any idea of how unbelievable you look?" Vic gasped out, watching Mac's sinuous movements on his aching cock. "So sexy, an erotic painting. I want you captured on canvas like this, lips parted, face flushed, stroking yourself. God, Mac," the older man moaned. 

Vic could feel himself tightening, his balls drawing up closer to his body. His hands drifted up along Mac's thighs, over the planes and angles of his hips and stomach, stopping for long moments to play with the ruddy nubbins partially hidden beneath silky hair. 

One hand continued upwards, finally stopping to wrap around the back of Mac's neck, drawing the younger man unerringly downwards for a gentle plundering of the ex-thief's divinely tempting lips. "You taste like the finest spiced honey," Vic whispered, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across Mac's lower lip for a moment, in order to appreciate his lover's debauched look. 

Needing to be deeper, closer, Victor somehow managed to ease himself upwards and backwards so that he was leaning against the headboard of their bed, before once more capturing his partner's lips. "Love you, love you so much," he managed to pant after oxygen-starved lungs forced him to relinquish Mac's lips once more. "Forever, Mac." 

"You know it," the younger man sighed, his hips taking up a shallow, circular motion that rocked Victor's cock deep within him. Mac's hands curved around Victor's head, then delved into his dark hair, carding through the short strands as he rested their foreheads together. 

"Meant what I said earlier; anybody who wants to hurt you has to go through me first." Mac could feel the tension building in Vic's body, and he increased the speed of his movements, rocking up higher onto his knees and then dropping back down, sheathing the older man's erection fully in his body. After what Vic had done to him in the park, Mac wasn't desperate to come yet, but he could tell his partner was getting there. 

"C'mon, lover," he husked, flicking his piercing over Victor's earlobe, "let loose, let me feel you, hear you." 

His hands clasped Mac's hips tightly, his head falling back against the headboard, eyes closed and mouth open so that his breath, coming in needy gasps, could enter his rapidly working lungs. Higher and higher he climbed and the gasps turned to whines and then to primal growls. With a last, shattering howl of bliss, Vic let loose, filling Mac with his seed as his body convulsed in pleasure. "MAC!" 

"Geeze, Victor!" Mac laughed, the force of his lover's climax giving the sound a needy tone. "I didn't mean _that_ loud!" He darted a quick look toward the door, as if expecting Allegra to begin banging on it at any second. When the condo remained silent except for their raspy breathing, Mac removed his hand from over the other man's mouth and kissed him before pushing up on his knees, letting his lover's softening penis slide from him. 

"Well, I pinned myself on you," the teen murmured, pressing kisses over Vic's lips as he grabbed for the lube once again. "Now I think I'll pin myself in you. Think you can keep quiet for that?" 

"Baby, god..." Vic moaned, spent and sated and wanting to feel Mac inside him. "Give me something to suck on, Mac," Vic husked, his eyes soft with pleasure and love. "I want your tongue, baby; I want to feel it fucking my mouth just like you're taking my body." 

At the younger man's hot moan Vic took the lube out of Mac's hands, squirting some into his own hand and warming it before gently rubbing it into the long, thick shaft, tickling Mac's balls and rolling them in his hands for a moment before snagging Mac's hand. 

Bringing it up to his mouth, Vic sucked two fingers inside, warming and laving the sweet digits before releasing them to smear some more lube over them. Spreading his legs wide, he raised his hips as best he could with Mac still straddling him. "Fuck me, baby." 

Mac's reply was a hot rush of Cantonese. Words describing just how amazing, gorgeous and all around fuckable Vic was. They were spoken quietly, however, and with an edge brought about by the feel of Vic's fingers stroking him. Climbing backwards off Vic's hips, Mac knelt between the older man's thighs, pressing both fingers inside Vic's body without warning. To keep Vic quiet, Mac offered his other thumb to suck on as a substitute until he could ravage his mouth with his lips. 

Once the other man was stretched and ready, Mac slid in, husking out a groan at the tight heat gripping him. Slightly wild-eyed, he leaned in, tearing his hand away from the sculptured lips that had been so assiduously fellating the digit, then dove in, thrusting his tongue into the wet cavern as he began to drive into Vic's body. 

Moaning around Mac's mouth, Vic canted his hips more, giving his lover greater access to his body. His hands raced up and down Mac's spine, over his shoulders and down his stomach to where the two of them were joined. The feel of Mac sliding in and out of him made Vic whimper with renewed need. He was getting hard again, god help him. 

Closing his eyes, Vic let the taste of Mac, the feel of him within Vic's body, the soft sounds of their love-making wash over him. Breaking off the kiss, he moaned out dark phrases of love and want and need, speaking in low, hot tones as he described what he felt and what it felt like to have Mac sliding in and out of him. 

"Mac, love you, so fucking much," he husked, finally opening his eyes to watch his lover move over and in him. 

Mac plastered himself full length on Vic, the small motions of his hips that the position allowed him stimulating both men at the same time. "Tell me again," he rasped, nuzzling Vic's face and neck, his hands carding through the older man's short hair. 

When Vic complied, Mac moaned, the hoarse, emotionally charged words twisting deep inside of him, wringing his heart at the same time they sent his climax shooting from him to inundate his lover. Feeling Vic's own orgasm as a delightful echo of his own, Mac whimpered, finally pushing back enough to look down at his lover. 

"Wo ai ni," the younger man breathed, feeling the night's exertions beginning to take their toll on him. "Wanna get cleaned up and curl up with you and not move for a year or so." 

"I'll always love you, Mac, never doubt that," the ex-cop exclaimed quietly, pulling Mac in for a soft kiss. 

When he finally came up for air, Vic laughed tiredly. "Wasn't it a shower that started today's adventure to begin with?" he grinned. "Maybe a bath and then yeah, a year oughta do it," Vic continued with a yawn. 

"Gotta hit a hardware store tomorrow—need to put a lock on the bedroom door so that Alice doesn't wander in uninvited while she's here," he continued as he let his eyes drift shut, curling his arms around Mac and snuggling lazily. "Hmm—guess we'd better move soon," he replied before long, still not ready or able to find the energy to move. 

"F'get a shower," the younger man mumbled, already half asleep and not fighting it. "Wet...cloth...don' wanna lose hair in the morning..." With another, unintelligible, mumble, he fell asleep, his body draped carelessly over Vic's in a way as to make movement for the other man near impossible. 

* * *

Vic came awake to the sound of muted pop being played from his living room stereo. "Alice," he groaned, raising a hand to rub bleary eyes. Above him, the soft exhalation of breath tickled his neck. "Mac," he whispered, trying to gently wake his lover. "Baby—we gotta get up." Trying to move brought him a twinge of discomfort. 

"Damn—we're glued together again," he groaned, realizing just how painful this morning's wake up was going to be. 

"Huh?" the younger man mumbled, squirming a little to avoid being woken, then yelping when even that small movement caused a tug at his chest. "Aw fuck, we did it again?" Mac groaned, lifting his head while trying to keep the rest of his body very still, not wanting to rip out the majority of his chest hair. 

"God, are we ever gonna learn?" he laughed, shaking his head, then grinning down at Victor. The muffled beat of music drew Mac's attention, and he tilted his head to the side, a wicked grin curling his lips upward. "Well, if we can't move, we can always call Allegra in and ask her to bring us some warm water." 

Vic jerked away quickly, causing a yelp from the younger man as their chests were forcibly separated in a fast and painful manner. "Don't even joke about it, Mackenzie!" Vic growled, ignoring the younger man's virulent curses. "It's bad enough she saw your ass in the air; there is no way in hell..." 

Vic finally ran out of steam and began to laugh, hard, at their situation. "When the hell did we become parents?" he chuckled, ignoring the evil looks that Mac kept giving him. "And we are getting a lock installed today; I'll call someone to come do it while we're out at the market or whatever the fuck Alice wants to go to." 

As if on cue, the young woman in question banged loudly on the door. "Okay, Moose, you kept me up half the night with your cat in heat impersonation, now get you and your 'roommate' out of bed! I wanna go shopping!" 

* * *

A short while later, minus a bit of body hair and still damp from their hurried shower, the two men left the haven of their room. Mac strove not to blush when he looked at Allegra, but her smirking grin had him wanting to hide his face against Vic's side. 

"In case you didn't notice, your brother is one hot man," he offered, resisting the urge to stroke Vic's ass and heading into the kitchen to grab something to drink before this massive shopping expedition. 

"Ewwww gross!" Alice made a face at the idea that her _brother_ was hot. "That's just wrong." 

Vic chuckled softly and followed his lover. "Mac's known to have impeccable taste, Alice, so who am I to argue?" he grinned as he came up behind the younger man and snagged the jug of orange juice from the fridge. "And I think you're absolutely delicious," the ex-cop whispered into Mac's ear, nipping it lightly before turning to grab a glass from the cupboard. 

"Whatever... oh gawd, are you guys at it again?" Alice made a face at the two men. "You're like worse than rabbits, you know, you always seem to be boffing, or about to boff, or just boffed... and I've only been here 24 hours. You're gonna warp my little mind." 

"Okay—what do you want?" Vic sighed, knowing the routine well. 

"To borrow Mac for a few hours. I wanna know where to get the rave music and the stores to shop in and not the kind of places you go to. You're so... middle-aged at times, Moose!" 

"Mid... middle-aged? I'm 28 for crying out loud, still in my prime! Mac?" 

"You know I love you, Victor..." Mac began, before his tone turned a bit sheepish, "but there are times—I mean, there are things we're never gonna agree on, right?" He looked pointedly at Vic's plaid shirt as he spoke, then glanced toward the 8-track player as if in confirmation. 

"But that doesn't mean that I don't think you're not the hottest thing on the planet or that I don't want to go after you like a bunny again just as soon as I can." His grin at Vic's expression turned to out and out laughter at Allegra's disgusted moan. 

"So let me take little sis out shopping. _You_ can get that lock installed, right?" Wrapping his arms around Vic's waist, Mac nibbled his lover's earring, then kissed him full on the lips. "And then we can test it out later," he added, husking the last into the older man's ear. 

The kiss he got in return was agreement as far as Mac was concerned, and, once he and Vic had finally broken apart for air, Mac crooked a finger at Allegra. "We'd better get out of here now, or you're gonna have to wait a few hours more." He made a move to grab the motorcycle helmets, then thought better of it. 

"We need to take the Stealth, babe. Can't balance many bags on the bike!" 

Vic handed over the keys with a sigh and fished out his credit card to hand to his lover. "300 limit for the both of you," he told them sternly before pulling Mac close and whispering hotly in his lover's ear. "And if you're good and make sure the both of you stick to it, I'll let you use another hundred on the Priape website for toys." 

The look of aroused shock on Mac's face as Alice herded him out the door made Vic smile as he began looking for locksmiths in the phone book. 

* * *

Five hours later Alice came breezing into the condo with a tired and bedraggled Mac following far behind and carrying _all_ the bags except one tiny one labeled MAC, to find Vic pacing the carpet like a man possessed. 

"Moose? You okay?" 

"We got a problem. Dad knows you're here. Chuck hired a private investigator who traced you. Not only that, Mac's and my boss called..." Vic trailed off with a sigh. 

"Fuck..." Mac groaned, letting the bags drop to the carpet then following them down so that he was leaning against the door. "Why do I not want to know what she had to say? Or just where this private dick is and when he's showing up?" 

This was just what they needed—but on the bright side... "Did you manage to get that lock installed though?" 

Vic chuckled despite the situation. "Yeah, I got the lock installed, baby," he grinned lopsidedly, pulling Mac in for a quick, passionate kiss. 

"Umm, hello? Moose, remember me? The one with the dick after her?" 

"There's no dick after you, Alice. Our boss has had him ... delayed. She's even managed to calm Father down and come up with an alternative. She wants us all in her office first thing tomorrow morning to discuss it," Vic sighed. 

"Despite my personal feelings on the matter, chances are her suggestion is gonna be the best one you've got, 'cause if you don't take it, Chuck and Dad and the dick are all gonna be breathing down our throats. Now c'mere and give me and Mac a hug," the elder Mansfield ordered only to have his sister throw herself into the three way embrace. 

"I think we _all_ need to get out of here for a while? The Jays are in town; wanna walk over to Skydome, catch a game and gorge ourselves on overpriced ballpark food?" 

"Baseball?" Mac moaned, wanting to slump down to the floor and just stay there. The sport ranked right up there with ice hockey in his opinion. The only thing that made it marginally better was the fact that the women in the crowd generally wore tank tops and shorts because of the heat and the players wore those tight pants. 

When the pair of siblings turned almost identical pleading expressions at him, Mac whimpered. "Oh all right, all right. Baseball it is. Mind if I change first though?" 

* * *

"Delightful to meet you, Miss Mansfield," the Director purred as she stood to shake Allegra's hand, then led her toward the chair nearest to hers around the conference table. "It's refreshing to meet a young woman who knows her mind." 

* * *

A month later

"Got a letter from Alice!" Vic called out as he came in from his morning jog along the waterfront. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed a carton of oj and drained it dry while standing in front of the still open appliance. 

A muffled, 'So are you gonna read it or what?' drifted out of the spare room where Mac was working on a term paper. Vic grinned and walked down to join his lover, peeling his sweat-soaked muscle shirt off and sprawling across the spare bed to enjoy the sights. 

Mac's head was bobbing along to the latest Cure CD and he was typing furiously. Damn, all he needed was a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and he'd be the most adorable college student Vic had ever had the pleasure of fucking into a mindless puddle of flesh. 

The head turned and a dark eyebrow shot up to remind the ex-cop of what he was supposed to be doing instead of ogling his lover. "Right. Letter." 

Opening it he gave it a cursory scan and chuckled softly. 

Dear Moose and Baby, 

Zaire is totally wild. I'm in this tiny village along the Congo. We had to travel down by boat from Kisangani to get here. I'm digging ditches and building wells and having the most amazing time. 

A giraffe wandered over to a tree behind my hut yesterday and started munching, and I've been adopted by a baby howler monkey—he kinda reminds me of you, Mac—clings all over me the way you do Moose. 

Hope you boys are behaving yourself and not waking up the neighbors every night. Say hi to the Director for me. She's totally cool for a power-mongering dictator—but then again she keeps you both in line, so she can't be all bad. And the woman can dress! 

Anyhow. I gotta get coz the mail boat is gonna be here soon, and I've got to get ready for this big feast—apparently women dance around topless. 

Behave boys! 

Love ya both big brothers, 

Allegra. 

Vic looked up from the letter with a grin. "Hey Monkey-boy—why don't you come over here so I can make you howl?" he teased with a grin. 

Mac groaned, then turned back in his seat, shaking his head. After saving his file and closing the program, he stood and sauntered toward the bed and his smirking lover. 

"Got a banana for me to nibble on?" he asked, before diving for Vic and going in search of one—a search that left both of them howling with laughter. 

Mac was lying on his back, eyes half-closed as he tried to catch his breath, when he chuckled. "Your sister dancing around topless. Now _that_ would be interesting to see." 

Apparently Vic hadn't thought of that situation, because he froze, then let out a strangled roar before burying his head in the pillow, vehemently denying that it might happen. 

"S'okay, Moosie," Mac snickered. "Doesn't mean she did it." Vic's answering groan sent him into another gale of laughter, one that ended only when the other man pummeled him in the face with a pillow. 

"Why me?" Vic moaned burying his face in his hands after he dropped the pillow. "A Director wannabe for a sister and a howler monkey for a lover. Oh well—if you call me Moose, I'll call you Howler ... but that will raise an eyebrow or two," the older man smirked as he crawled off the bed. 

"Care to join me in the shower?" 

Instead of answering, Mac vaulted off the bed, landing in a crouch, his hands dangling around his knees. Hooting like a chimp, the ex-thief turned, waggling his ass at his lover, before darting toward the bathroom, intent on beating Victor in there. "C'mon, Tarzan," he laughed, "and I'll show you why he _really_ liked Cheetah more than Jane!" 

Laughing, Vic shook his head and followed the younger man at a more sedate pace. "Welcome to the jungle, Mansfield," he chuckled to himself as he joined the ex-thief under the hot spray. 

"So tell me, Howler-boy, just why did Tarzan like Cheetah more than Jane?" 

"Because," Mac grinned, dropping to his knees and smirking up at his lover, "he knew what to do with a banana!" This said, he closed his lips around the head of Vic's cock, sucking hard while he flicked his piercing over the smooth flesh. 

Vic was torn between groaning at the pun and dissolving into a puddle of goo as his bones melted from the mind-blowing heat that Mac generated in him. "Shit! Warn me, will you, Mac?" he begged as he felt his brains get sucked out through his cock. 

Fighting back the almost irresistible urge to beat against his chest and let out a 'Tarzan' yell, Vic's head dropped back and his fingers carded through the younger man's hair. "Oh yeah, Monkey-boy, suck that banana," he moaned softly, thoroughly enjoying his lover giving him yet another amazing blowjob. 

Mac almost choked as he tried to laugh, breathe, and go down on his lover all at once. Breathing won out by sheer necessity and he braced his hands alongside Vic's hips, his shoulders heaving, before he was able to tilt his head upwards and eye the older man through the water dripping in his eyes. "I think you found your calling, babe," he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against Vic's cock, grinning as his stubble rasped against the sensitive flesh, making the other man shiver. "If you ever give up on the secret agent biz, you can make a living writing porn movies." 

"Would rather star in them—god knows we've had the practice with _her_ watching. But I'd have to demand that only you could fuck or be fucked by me," he grinned down at the younger man. 

"So—what do you say to getting in a little 'dress rehearsal'" he grinned. Turning and bracing himself against the tiled wall, Vic rippled his ass so that it flexed invitingly. "C'mon, babe, show me who's top banana!" 

"Jesus..." Mac moaned, lowering his face into his hands and trying not to laugh. "And you say _I'm_ bad?" 

Vic's new position did leave Mac with a great view of his lover's luscious ass, so he had to dive in for a taste. Spreading the taut cheeks wide, Mac flicked his tongue over the puckered opening, tasting the musk of Vic's skin as he stretched the tight muscles. 

When Vic was moaning and clawing at the tile, Mac surged to his feet, grabbing the bath oil and slicking it on his aching cock, then pushing home into the older man's body. "There's your banana, Tarzan," he growled, pistoning in and out of the tight sheath as his fingers tweaked the ex-cop's nipples. 

"Shit! Oh god, yeah! Fuck me, Jesus, Mac, fuck me hard," Vic howled as the younger man penetrated and began to ride him, thrusting into him hard enough to grind his cock into the cool tile. 

Thrusting his ass backwards, Vic tried to impale himself more deeply on Mac's cock even though Mac was already as deep as he could go. "God yes!" Vic whined as the tip of Mac's erection scraped against his prostate time and again with each thrust. "Feel so good, baby—harder, god, please!" 

"Like it, don't you?" Mac rasped, one of his hands sliding lower to encircle and stroke Victor's cock. "Like giving up control like this so all you can do is feel." As he spoke, he pushed on the inside of Vic's knees with his legs, spreading them farther and driving the older man down more firmly on his cock with his next thrust. 

"God, so fucking hot. Just like that, babe. Tighten down on me, let me feel how you like it, let me hear you." Mac's words rasped out around them, and he closed his teeth on Vic's ear, nipping the flesh as he tugged on the ring impaling his nipple. 

Vic nearly collapsed into a puddle of mindless flesh. "Oh fuck!" he wailed as his bones melted from the heat Mac was generating. "Jesus—oh Jesus, baby—please! Harder, Mac, fuck me harder!" the older man begged as he thrust his ass backwards, wanting to feel every inch of his baby pressed up against him—claiming and marking him. 

With a wordless growl, Mac pulled out of his lover's body the entire way, then slammed back in with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs and to flatten Vic against the squares of tile. Vic's whine goaded him into repeating the maneuver once, then again, because of the extreme reaction it got him. 

Heat coiled at the base of his spine, and Mac bit down on the smooth plane of the older man's shoulder to remain in control just a little longer. He was going to come, but not without taking Victor along with him for the ride —and this was going to be a damn good one. 

Vic couldn't take it anymore. He was burning alive. With a wail of total abandon the ex-cop painted the cool tiles with his semen, coming hard and fast, clamping down on the invading cock even as his head reared back to expose his throat more to Mac's lush mouth. 

"MAC! Oh Jesus God!!!" The room began to gray out, and he felt himself slump forward, even as Mac continued to pound into him. Nothing had ever felt this good before, he thought hazily. Nothing but his baby. 

Mac's whole body tensed when he felt Vic spasm around him, and he followed his lover into oblivion, thrusting one last time before sending gouts of jism pouring into the older man's body. 

"God, Vice-man," he murmured, before feeling the increased weight of Vic's body in his arms. "Victor? Babe?" Mac's tone took on a frantic edge, and he wrapped his arms around Vic, supporting him while he tried to lean in and look at the other man's face. "C'mon, babe, answer me!" 

"Damn. That was." Vic shook his head to clear it somewhat. "You damn near made me pass out there, babe," the older man admitted as he tried to brace himself on jelly-like knees. 

Giving up, Vic turned and let himself sink to the shower floor, then looked up at the younger man. "Isn't this how that whole fiasco started in the first place?" he chuckled. "Except it was you a melted pile of flesh and us sound asleep in the bedroom. Remember to lock the door, okay?" Vic grinned up his lover. 

Mac's eyes widened at the thought of another of Victor's relations walking in on them, and he raced to flip the bolt on the door, not even bothering to grab a towel on his way out of the bathroom. Shuddering at the thought that they might have had another visitor, he started back to the bathroom, intent on pulling Vic from the shower, drying them both off, then cajoling his lover into a trip to the mall. "Hey, Vic, is that your way of telling me you have more relatives coming to visit?" 

"What's the matter, baby, don't wanna meet any more of my family? But they're so cuddly and loveable!" Vic chortled as he was dragged to his feet. 

Yelping when Mac's hand contacted his still damp and well-fucked ass, Vic turned and pinned the younger man to the wall, nipping at his throat. "No more visitors, babe—just you and me and a whole condo to ourselves. So what do you want to do today?" 

"Shopping?" Mac asked hopefully, before snickering at the other man's moan of agony. "C'mon, babe," he cajoled, mimicking Vic's tone. "I'll give you a $300 limit, and if you're good and stick to it, you can have another hundred to spend _in_ Priape. I know how that clerk just loves helping you try on leather..." 

"Try again, baby. _You_ love helping me try on leather, admit it." 

Vic grinned tiredly and headed towards the closet. "Well, on the plus side I can only benefit from this little shopping excursion. C'mon, baby, let's go blow a wad on sex toys." 

"Then I can use 'em to blow a wad on you?" Mac asked brightly, waggling his eyebrows at Vic, then ducking out of the way as the older man aimed a swat at his ass. "And I love helping you get out of the leather more than trying it on." 

Vic chuckled softly and slid into his most comfortable and worn pair of jeans. Grabbing a tee shirt next, he skimmed into the tight fitting fabric. "You wanna blow me, babe, you'd best get a move on," he grinned and headed out to the living room for his sneakers and his jacket. "After all—we wouldn't want to keep the salesmen waiting for their entertainment." 

"Oh no," Mac laughed from deep in the closet where he was going through his large collection of clothes, searching for the right look. "Didn't say I was gonna blow you this time, said I was gonna blow a wad on you—there's a difference!" 

As Mac walked out of the over-sized closet, he automatically checked to make sure his earrings were still in place, then busied himself tucking his gray shirt into his black linen pants. After accessorising with a black leather belt and black loafers, he slid his wallet into his pocket and grinned at his lover. "Ready to do some damage, babe?" 

Vic groaned softly, but smiled at his lover. "Ready, willing and able, baby. Lead the way." 

* * *

Title: Little Sisters   
Author/pseudonym: Angel and Rina   
Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
Archive: RatB, WWOMB and The Nesting Place   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby 6   
Other websites: http://thesleepydragon.com/nesting/main.html   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: Union Station is a major center for train travel and is right downtown and very cool looking. There are streetcars as well as subways in Toronto, the train of choice is VIA. Queen's Quay is very pricey harbor front property and the Annex is where many of the university/young professional crowd seems to live   
Summary: Vic's little sister comes for a visit   
A big thanks to Yenko and Eugenie who helped translate some of Mac's potty mouth phrases into Cantonese for me ~ Angel ~   
Cantonese to English: Tiew, geng hi lah—Fuck, yeah! Tiew wo, lan-tan - Fuck me, dammit! Wo ai ni—I love you   
---


	8. VII: The Parent Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part VII  
The Parent Trap**

"Man I am so late, she's gonna have my ass..." There were times when Mac Ramsey, part time university student and full time secret agent for a shadowy government agency, wished he could chuck this whole cover identity and with it, the mound of classwork he had to do. Now was one of those times. 

"Prof is late so the class runs late. Class runs late so I hit a ton of traffic which makes me even later and to top it off I can't find my damn _gun_!" 

Yelling didn't help with the search for his missing firearm and Mac segued into curses in a variety of languages directed toward teachers, jobs and especially bosses who decreed that he couldn't take his weapon to class with him. 

"Might shoot someone, my eye," the young man growled as he stood in the midst of the chaos that had been the living room once upon a time—about an hour ago. "Am gonna shoot _her_ if she rides my ass about this. You hear that?" he yelled, glaring around at the room at the bugs which had undoubtedly been replaced since he and Victor swept the place last. 

Victor, shit! Now Mac remembered where his gun was, Vic had taken it with him to the Agency that morning to save Mac the trip to their place after class. "Stupid..." the ex-thief snarled at himself, giving the wrecked room a glance before dismissing it. He'd straighten it up when they got home, whenever that was. 

Grabbing his jacket and double checking that his cell was in his pocket, Mac yanked open the front door to the condo, only to barely avoid running into a conservatively dressed, middle aged couple wearing identical expressions of shock. 

"Can I help you?" Urgency made Mac's tone impatient. If these people were selling something, they were going to find themselves hitting the street very soon. 

"Who are you and what are you doing in my son's apartment?" The man asked the question in an imperious tone, peering at Mac as if he would normally be beneath his notice. 

"I think that's what I should be asking you," Mac sassed back, unable to resist the chance to twist this guy's nose. Man these two were so vanilla they should set up a store. "Since I'm the one who lives here and you..." 

_Son?_ Mac stopped speaking at that and stared hard at the couple, recalling the pictures Vic had brought out when Allegra had visited. _Oh shit._

It looked like he was going to be even later to work then he had thought. 

* * *

"C'mon, Dobie, just find Victor for me." Mac peered around the door from the relative safety of the guest room, watching as the elder Mansfield's treated their son's condo like an archaeological dig, quartering each room and examining it in minutia. 

"I _know_ I'm supposed to be there, but something came up. Look, I can do without the fifty questions right now, just get him, his damn cell must be dead or off." 

Fine, fine, I owe you one." _Probably going to paying on it for the rest of my life too,_ the young man sighed, risking another look around the doorjamb, then ducking back out of sight. _Which may not be too long at this rate._

"Victor! Man, you have to get home now!" Mac hissed, not even letting his lover get a full word in before he started to talk. "We've got company. Company who you not-so-fondly call Mom and Dad." 

* * *

Victor went from irritated at being left alone to face the Director's diatribe about tardiness and suitable punishments for naughty boys to mute shock in less than a minute. His parents here?! And alone in the condo with Mac. Mac Ramsey. Teenaged Mac Ramsey. Teenaged Mac Ramsey—his lover. Oh SHIT! 

Vic hung up the phone, took one quick, panicked look at both Dobie and the Director, and took off running, yelling out 'family emergency' as he bolted from his pissed off boss's office. 

"Well, that was... interesting. Mr. Dobrinsky, the surveillance cameras in the Mansfield residence, if you please." 

Dobrinsky smirked. First the kid had sounded flustered and frustrated, then Ace took off like the hounds of hell, or the Director were after his ass. He contemplated popping popcorn to go along with the entertainment. He had the feeling it was gonna be one hell of a show. 

* * *

Vic slammed his truck into the parking space next to Mac's bike, throwing it into park. Gone was the dark green Stealth that had been his toy until it got demolished in a case a few months back. Instead, Vic now drove a bright red pickup with a back bed large enough to strap down Mac's bike if it needed to be hauled anywhere. He'd even let his young partner make fun of his 'family' values when they went car shopping together. If Mac had had his way, Vic would now be driving a Porshe or a Testarosa or something, but for the most part Vic was happy with his choice, not that he was thinking about that right now, let alone care less about it. 

Right now Victor's only concern was getting upstairs and protecting... he wasn't quite sure who—his lover from his parents or his parents from his lover. Either combination was an option given just who was in the apartment. Not even bothering waiting for the elevator, Vic ran up eight flights of stairs and raced down the hall, slamming the door open to find his parents sitting uncomfortably on the new couch and Mac nowhere in sight. 

"Victor!" Barbara Mansfield was off the sofa (leather, modern, much too trendy for her taste) and moving toward her middle child in a flurry of tailored clothing, sensible shoes, and choker length pearls to engulf him in a hug that smelled of White Shoulders perfume and breath mints. "I know we should have called, but your father had to come to Toronto for business and I thought it would be _so_ wonderful to surprise you! After all, we haven't seen you in so long..." The last was added with a bit of a bite coupled with a saddened expression. 

"Son." Charles Mansfield, stood, watching his wife gush over their younger son, his green eyes flint-like as he watched the reunion. Career military for twenty years, a mover and shaker in the Victoria business community after that, ex-Major Mansfield was a man who knew what was best for all those under him, be they his soldiers, his employees, or his family - especially his family. 

Now that Victor had finally given up on his bleeding heart dream of being a policeman, it was time to bring his black sheep son home to the fold. Just the fact that Vic was living in the condominium they had purchased for him showed that he was open to the suggestion, it just had to be phrased in the right manner. 

* * *

"Thank god," Mac muttered to himself, hearing the door bang open and Mrs. Mansfield's cooing welcome. It may only have taken Vic half an hour to get back here, but it had seemed like a year in hell for Mac. The Mansfield's were openly distrustful of him, turning down his offers of drinks, snacks and attempted conversation. Finally, after cleaning up the living room as best he could under the couple's critical gaze, Mac had retreated to the guest room to pretend to do his homework, feeling as if he had just gone ten rounds with Dobie in the boxing ring. 

Feeling strangely leery about venturing out into the open again, even with Vic out there, Mac paused in the hallway leading back to the bedrooms, watching the reunion with a critical eye. Mrs. M was trying too hard, Mr. M looked as if he was ready to bark orders, and Victor was about as tense as Mac had ever seen him. The overwhelming urge to move up behind his lover and hug him until he relaxed once again overtook Mac, but he managed to keep from giving in to it. The Mansfield's already had enough questions without him throwing _that_ into the mix. 

Vic saw Mac out of the corner of his eye and tamped back the overwhelming urge to grab the younger man and run for their lives. Here he was ex-cop turned shadowy government agent and he was terrified of a five-foot nothing 50 year old woman and her 5' 11", 58 year old husband. Who just happened to be his parents. 

Parents he had not seen in over 2 years, parents he had not planned on seeing for at least 2 more years—or never, whichever came last. Vic could barely stomach the bi-annual phone calls, but a full-fledged visitation. _Oh god, please don't let them want to stay here!_ he begged silently, thinking of that particular disaster. He could just see the explanations now—No really, Mac and I don't mind sharing a bed, in fact this is where Mac normally sleeps. His father would either kill him or disown him, hell he'd kill him _then_ disown him, and his mother would have 'vapors' then begin sobbing about what a bad mother she was for one of her children to turn out _that_ way. 

That way, being like the never mentioned uncle who now lived happily with his husband in San Francisco. Of course that all came out _after_ Vic had been born and named after his father's younger brother. When Father had found out that Uncle Victor was a flaming queen, he'd nearly had Vic's own name changed, because he didn't want _his_ son to turn into one of _them_. God, if they only knew, he thought, feeling quite nauseous. 

"Mother, Father, it's ... you've definitely surprised me!" Vic managed to get out, with a wane smile, before air-kissing his mother's cheek and shaking his father's hand formally. "And your visit is _definitely_ a surprise, Mother." 

Taking the coward's way out, he gestured to Mac. "And I hear you've met Mac. I probably should have told you that I'd become the guardian of a young man studying here, but what with the career change and the events that brought Mac to me... well, you know how it goes. Mac, you don't have to stand in the hallway, after all this is your home too. Come meet my parents." 

"Yes, your... exchange student introduced himself when we arrived." Mrs. Mansfield's tone said that there had been quite a bit lacking in that introduction—namely a detailed explanation of _why_ her younger son was hosting this young man. It just didn't look right. 

"Would be better off in the military instead of some fancy private university," Mr. Mansfield added. "A stint in the service should be mandatory." 

"My parents thought that Victor would be a good influence on me," Mac shrugged, rolling his eyes inwardly as he walked toward the small group. "After meeting him, it was their opinion that me living with him was much safer and more stable then on my own or in one of the dorms." Looking significantly at Vic, Mac leaned toward the older man's parents, whispering conspiratorially. "They think I'd go wild if I was on my own or something." 

Victor groaned silently and fought the urge to hide his face in his hands. _Please, Mac, don't set them off—you have no idea what you're in for,_ he begged silently. "Dad—York isn't a private university, anyone can go, and considering Mac's parents live in Hong Kong, the only military he can go into is the Chinese or the British, kinda difficult when he's here in Canada don't you think?" the younger Mansfield pointed out logically. 

"Mother, new hairdo! It looks great on you! You look just like you did in your wedding pictures—a young and radiant bride," Vic said quickly, trying to change the subject. Maybe bringing Mac out was a bad idea. 

"You know, I completely forgot to tell you what I'm doing now. I work as a security consultant for Queen's Park," he rambled, leading his mother back over to the couch while shooting a look of pure desperation at his lover. A look that just screamed 'Get me out of this mess!'. "I help head up the security for the GAC—the Government Advisory Council—they have representatives here as well as in Ottawa. You wouldn't believe some of the people I've met Mother," Vic continued to ramble. 

As his wife brought a hand up to touch her sleekly coifed hair, pleasure at her son's complement shining in her blue eyes, Charles Mansfield scowled. Knowing what he did about his younger son's past, it was hard for the man to fathom Victor being viewed as a good influence by anyone even though the years seemed to have mellowed his wild, belligerent child somewhat. 

"Thank you darling," Barbara beamed, brushing a non-existent lock of loose hair and leaning in to place one small, finely boned hand on Victor's arm. She took great pains in her appearance and the fact that her hair was as dark and her skin as smooth as when she was twenty-five attested to this. "Your father and I would love to hear more about your work! It must be so exciting, meeting all those dignitaries. Oh the affairs you must get to attend!" 

"Charles Junior just made executive vice president of the Hong Kong Bank of Canada" Mr. Mansfield cut in, expressing both his pride in his older son's accomplishments and his slight disdain for Victor's job in one breath. 

Mac had flopped down into one of the easy chairs, crossing his legs in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees, playing "student" for all he was worth. He'd caught Vic's look and was trying to behave, but damn, all he wanted to do was give the elder Mr. Mansfield a swift boot in the ass and tell him to wake up and see just what kind of a son he really had. "Yeah," he grinned, though the expression didn't reach his eyes, "Vic is really in demand from those high-level mucky-mucks. They're calling day and night asking his opinion of things. That's how my folks got his name—Embassy connections." He let the topic go at that, leaving it vague enough to avoid questions but happy with the way Mrs. Mansfield was now looking at Vic. 

"Always has to let me know just how well _Charles Jr._ is doing," Vic muttered under his breath, before turning on a saccharine smile. "How wonderful for Charles Jr. It's nice to hear he's doing so well. I don't think I'd be able to survive being cooped up in a tiny office all day, wearing Armani, but hey—to each his own," Vic continued blythly, leading his mother over to the sofa. 

"Work is wonderful, Mother, and my director has had me design security for a lot of foreign dignitaries that come to the province as well. Just last week, M . . I was the host of a Prince from a small, but very important principality in the Middle East. Nice kid, likes to have fun. We took him dancing," Vic smiled at the memory of watching his lover bump and grind in a crowd of nubile young dancers, while they'd both kept tabs on the little brat. 

"So, where are you staying while in town?" he asked quickly when he saw Mac's eyebrow quirk at his longer than usual silence. Time to get the parents gone so that he could ask his 'young charge' to relieve some of his tension. 

"We have a suite at the Royal York." Mrs. Mansfield didn't notice Mac's slight wince at that, but her husband did. "And we were hoping that you'd join us for dinner tonight, Victor. If we had known about your charge we would have made the reservations for four, but since we didn't..." 

"Barbara," Charles cut in, fixing his wife with a hard stare. "The fact that Victor doesn't feel fit to inform us of what is going on in his life is his business. It seems he's been quite the influence on Alice as well." 

"Hey," Mac interjected, trying desperately to diffuse some of the tension that was rapidly escalating in the room. "It's not a problem, I can take care of myself for the night, Vic doesn't have to babysit me _all_ the time." He threw a quick apologetic look at his lover, but there really wasn't any other way he cold see of getting around this and maybe the Mansfield's would be satisfied with one dinner with their son. 

* * *

Victor wearily trudged in the condo, letting his keys land on the side table next to the door, Chippendale and one his mother had highly approved of, and threw his suit jacket over the back of the leather recliner. "Leather, really Victor, it's just so... modern," his mother had informed him over dinner. "Don't you know that classic is always better in furniture. At any rate you need to tell your interior decorator that she really needs to stop mixing her periods. It was quaint, I'll grant you that, but it just isn't the proper home for dignitaries to visit, darling." 

Walking into the kitchen, Vic opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, popped the top and drained it to the dregs before reaching for another one. Hearing movement behind him, Vic shut the refrigerator door and began to bang his head against it softly. "Why me, god why me?" he bemoaned, thumping his already overstressed cranium against the sterile white metal. 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and a firm body pressed into his from behind. Sighing he tipped his head backwards to lay his head against his lover's shoulder. "I know we can't choose our parents Mac, but god, mine . . . well at least the godfather loved you. I'm not quite sure what Barbara and Charles see in me other than a disappointing black sheep. Mother tries at least, she just doesn't understand. I honestly think my father can't stand me. All evening it was Charles jr. did this and Charles jr. won that. Chuck is married to an ice queen, has some rather unsavory business partners and the most stacked mistress I've ever seen living in a Vancouver luxury condo—she used to be a masseuse for cryin' out loud—but noooo, Charles jr. is an absolute paragon of filial devotion—the prick." 

"Stupid fucks," Mac growled, placing a gentle kiss against Vic's temple and bringing his hands up to loosen, then discard the older man's tie. "Don't deserve kids like you and Allegra. Deserve the Cleaners." Next, he tugged Vic's stark white dress shirt from his trousers, then worked his way through all the buttons until it was hanging loose at the throat and wrists. "C'mon, babe. Bring the beer and let me help you relax some. I've got John Lee Hooker on the stereo and a bottle of that citrus massage oil you like so much warming, think that'll help?" 

As he spoke, Mac turned Victor and guided him to the living room where several plush bath towels were spread out on the floor in front of the couch. "I'm gonna make sure you don't think about any of them for the rest of the night, promise." 

"Mmmm, god I love you Mac Ramsey," Vic sighed, leaving the beer on the counter and following his partner happily. "Don't need the beer. Just need you. You've spoiled me," Vic continued as they stopped in front of the towels and Vic shrugged out of that damned pinstripe shirt he detested so much. 

The music swirled around the room, relaxing Vic almost immediately. The gentle but firm hands of Mac stripping the rest of his clothes off and guiding him to the floor, did the rest. "Now I _know_ you must love me, baby, putting up with John Lee just to relax me," the older man chuckled, knowing how much Mac disliked the artist currently playing. 

Hearing Mac's good-humored chuckle and soft comment on granddaddy music made the ex-cop chuckle. The hands that began to spread warm oil on his back, kneading too tense muscles made him groan in pleasure. Soon he was drifting on sensations; the slick feel of oil on his skin, the smell of citrus wafting around him, the lazy, soulful sounds drifting from the stereo and most of all the gently arousing touch of his lover, stroking him into blissful relaxation. 

"Gee, if I'd of known all it would have taken to convince you that I love you was to play those moldy old tunes, I'd have done it long ago," Mac laughed quietly. He continued to stroke his hands down Vic's back, even though the muscles were limp and pliant under his fingers and palms, continuing the motion as much for his own pleasure as Vic's. 

"Turn over babe," the younger man murmured, moving back to help Victor shift, then leaning in to give him a slow, lingering kiss once he was sprawled out on his back. "You know how much I love seeing you like this? All boneless and relaxed? Never see you like this around anyone but me, it's my look and I'm damn jealous about it, okay?" Shifting back, he began to work on Vic's right hand, massaging the callused fingers and palm then working his way up the other man's arm, rolling the now lax muscles under his palms to warm and soothe them. 

Seeing all this bounty laid out before him, caused the former thief's breath to shorten and speed up as his cock grew harder, pushing at the light jersey shorts that were all he wore. 

"Works by me," Vic replied softly, bringing his free arm up to draw the younger man down to him in a mindless kiss. "I feel the same way about you, believe me." Vic's eyes were incredibly tender as they gazed into his lover's for a moment, while he tried to find the words he wanted to say. "You know I'm not ... ashamed of us, right?" Vic finally managed to get out, his hands unconsciously caressing the younger man's arms protectively. 

"I love you more than life Mac, you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. My _family_. I just... you have no idea just how cruel my parents can be if they want to, and I'd rather have them snipe at me that turn vicious on you. If they did... I'd lose it on them, baby. You getting hurt in the line of work I can barely stomach, to have my relatives deliberately do that to my life partner? Well, it wouldn't be pretty, that's for sure," the older man husked. 

"I just needed you to know—you're the most important person in my life, sappy as it sounds. God, I love you, baby." 

The younger man smiled at that, then nodded and placed a soft kiss on Vic's lips. "I know all of that and more, Victor. I never thought that you might be ashamed of us or trying to hide me, for now we have to live like this, but not always. I've got you, that's what counts to me. As for your parents, they snipe any more at you, they're gonna find out just how wild I can be. Y'see, it won't hurt me if they say shit about me, but it does hurt you when they bring up the dweeb—and that isn't going to happen again." 

As he spoke, Mac lowered himself to his hands and knees, shifting so that he was right over Victor. "They want to talk to you again while they're here, they'd better be at least civil or I'm going to get it into my head to break into their hotel room and replace all their designer fashions with bargain basement knockoffs. Let's see how their country club friends would like that!" Leaning in, Mac nuzzled his way down Vic's jaw to his ear, flicking out his tongue so that his piercing tapped against the discrete stud in the older man's lobe. "And if I didn't make it abundantly clear before you left, you looked fucking hot in that suit, I bet everyone in that restaurant was slavering over you like you were the dessert." 

"You're the only one who gets to have me for dessert or any other meal for that matter," Vic chuckled. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you get protective? I mean _really_ sexy. I love watching the way your eyes spark and snap and how excited you get plotting dastardly means of revenge." 

"Bargain knock offs?" Vic began to chuckle. "Barbara would have a heart attack on the spot and Charles would demand a military investigation as to who _dared_ to break into the hallowed Mansfield rooms!" Vic began to laugh harder and harder at the images dancing in his brain, until tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

Finally, when he could breathe again without bursting into another fit of giggles, he tenderly stroked his lover's face. "Thank you Mac. You have no idea how much I needed this. All of this—the pampering and the laughter, but most of all the love. I know we've had our differences, hell we've torn the apartment up more than once in a fight, but you've always been behind me 100 percent and that—means everything. Now why don't you do one more thing for me," he purred, eyes darkening with need. "Why don't you make love with me?" 

"You know," Mac murmured, leaning his face into Vic's palm, then rubbing his stubbled cheek against his lover's hand, "if you hadn't brought that up, I was going to suggest it in a second." His smile was tender as he turned his head to kiss Victor's palm, then pushed up off him long enough to slide off his shorts. Now as nude as his lover, Mac slithered back over him, letting the thin layer of oil remaining on Vic's skin smooth the way until he was once more level with the former cop's face. 

"Love you," the ex-thief whispered, brushing light kisses across Vic's cheek and jaw, allowing his weight settle on top of the older man's heavier frame. "Hate to see you hurting, want to make everything perfect for you." As he spoke, Mac slid one hand down Vic's side, stroking the soft skin with enough pressure to keep from tickling. The fingers of his other hand slid through Vic's dark hair, cradling his head into a slow, exquisite kiss that left them both gasping for breath and arching against each other. 

"I want to be in you, lover," Mac pulled back enough to stare into Vic's deep green eyes as he spoke, feeling a sharp twist of lust as the pupils dilated with the older man's increasing desire. "I want for us to go to the point where the only thing that exists is each other, will you come with me?" 

"God, yes," Vic rasped, thrusting upwards to heighten the contact between them. "Please, god, Mac, need you in me so bad," the ex-cop mumbled, running his fingers up Mac's chest to his neck, drawing him downwards for yet another melding of mouths. 

"Everything _is_ perfect. You make it that way, Mac," the older man managed to get out. "Make the foundations crack lover, please?" he whined, spreading his legs wider so that Mac's slid through them, bringing their cocks together with shattering effect. 

"Mac!" Victor cried out softly, feeling his balls tense up, he was so close, and Mac hadn't even. . . "Baby, please!" 

"Easy, easy," Mac soothed, brushing his lips over Vic's before slowly pulling away enough to dip his fingers into the container of oil. "Just relax, don't want it over before it starts, do we?" Vic's muttered curses said that he might not mind having to start from scratch all over again, but Mac just chuckled at that. Urging the older man to pull his knees toward his chest, Mac circled the rim of the tight, puckered entrance to his lover's body with one oil-slick finger, then, when Vic was squirming beneath him, eased it inward. 

Taking the time to repeat the process with a second, and then third finger, Mac was almost as frantic by the time he had finished stretching Vic as the older man was. "God, can't wait any more," he breathed, running his hand over his cock, leaving a shiny film of oil behind, then shoving the warmer and pot away so that it wouldn't inadvertently be knocked over. Then, after leaning in and kissing Vic breathless, Mac pushed in, grounding both himself and his lover in the moment and in each other. 

A soft breathy sigh was the only sound that escaped as Vic's eyes locked with Mac's as the younger man slid home and claimed what was his. "Love you," he moaned, arching slightly at the gentle rub of Mac's penis against his prostate. 

They rocked together slowly and came apart, making love gently but thoroughly, cherishing one another. Vic reached up and traced Mac's features, trying to relearn them by touch alone, and he gently milked his partner's shaft with rhythmic contractions. "Mmm, that feels so good. Yes, right... god Mac. . . so... feel you everywhere. . . so full... love you," he murmured in broken sentences, just drifting on the indescribable pleasure that having Mac inside him brought. Even his orgasm, when it came, was gentle and soft, a tribute of love. Sighing he pulled the younger man down for a long kiss, only breaking it reluctantly when his lungs cried out for air and Mac's movements increased as he too drew close. "Please Mac, come in me," he whispered. 

"Yes, god yes," Mac breathed, letting the gentle contractions that caressed his cock carry him into oblivion. He moaned out his climax into the sweat-damp skin of Vic's neck, then rubbed their cheeks together, indulging in the feel of lazy, sated Victor under him while his heartrate and breathing calmed. "Love you too, Victor," Mac whispered, "more then I ever thought I'd love anyone. You said make the foundations crack, but you are my foundation, the only one I ever need." Slightly embarrassed by his declaration, Mac ducked his head against Vic's neck, relaxing against the older man's body as he did so. 

"Mac. . ." Vic murmured, using a finger to raise his lover's head so that he could see the blush and the vulnerability in the younger man's eyes. "Forever Mac, if the law would let me marry you, I would in a heartbeat, my family and the scandal be damned. But it won't, so all I can do is love you forever, which I kinda planned on doing anyway." Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to his lover's temple. 

"As for my parents—do you think I'm too old to run away from home until they're gone?" he asked plaintively, then quirked a smile. "You could come with me. The Director owes us vacation time—we could go to that island you're always talking about—Aldabra? Anything—just so long as I don't have to meet them for brunch in the morning. Which you're invited to by the way." 

* * *

"Victor, we gotta go or we're gonna be late!" Mac yelled. He glanced in the mirror in the guest bath, ran a comb through his hair a final time, tucked his shirt in and brushed some non-existent lint from his trousers. They had gotten up and started getting ready in plenty of time, but his need to get some of the tension out of Victor had ended up with him jumping on the older man in the shower and trapping him against the tile wall, rubbing against him until they were both in need of another cleaning. 

It had worked for a little while, but Mac knew that Vic was agonizing over this meal from the way the ex-cop had vanished into the master bathroom half an hour ago and still didn't show any signs of emerging. "C'mon, lover, or do you want me to go on ahead without you, I'm sure I can keep Babs and Chuck entertained until you show." 

The door was locked—a futile gesture at best—and it took less then five seconds for Mac to have the lock picked and open. "C'mon, Victor," he wheedled, moving in behind Vic, who was staring in the mirror as if he'd never seen himself before, "lets get this over with, then we can go have some fun, how about we get out of town for the afternoon on my bike, hide away from everyone, Lady D included." 

The Director had not been amused when they called to explain what had happened—or maybe she had, it was impossible to tell with that woman, but she gave them the weekend off to deal with the 'family emergency'. 

"You sure we can't run away from home?" Vic asked plaintively, staring at the GQ coverboy in the mirror and hating the look. He was a jeans, tee-shirt and leather jacket kinda guy, Mac was the clotheshorse. Hell even his earring and nipple ring were gone—they didn't fit the image. "This isn't me, tell me this isn't me, please?" he moaned looking at himself but seeing Charles Junior. "I look like... my brother!" Vic groaned reaching for the tie. 

"Screw it, if they can't accept me in jeans, then screw it... I'm not gonna dress up in a monkey suit just to..." Mac's hand covering his own stopped him. "I'm acting like a basket case aren't I? He sighed, leaning his forehead against his lover's shoulder. "They just make me so nuts Mac." 

The younger man chuckled softly and kissed the soft, freshly shaven skin on Vic's jaw. "Breathe, Victor," he ordered, waiting until the rapid exhalations his lover had been giving slowed to something approaching normal. Loosening his hold on the older man, Mac then lifted his hands to Vic's tie and adjusted it, smoothing the silk and straightening the knot as he did so. 

"Don't touch," he admonished before kissing Vic again. "And listen to me good. First, you do _not_ look like your brother in that suit. When I look at you, 'dweeb' is the last thing that comes to my mind. 'Mine' is first, followed closely by 'damn sexy-fine'. Second, you're gonna get through this meal just fine. Just... oh I don't know, think of your parents doing the wild thing and if nothing else that will make you laugh!" 

Mac dropped his hands lower, brushing imaginary lint off Vic's shirt, then turning and picking up the other man's suit jacket, holding it out for him to slip into. "And if everything else fails," he grinned, "I'll distract you under the table during the meal." 

"God, that won't make me laugh, that'll make me ill!" Vic chuckled softly, as he let Mac help him into his jacket. Turning, he pressed his forehead against Mac's for a moment. "You always manage to keep me sane, don't you?" he smiled. "Don't know what I'd do without you Mac, and my wardrobe has definitely improved since you moved in," the older man continued, attempting a little levity to get him back on an even keel. 

Taking a deep breath to quell the last tremors of panic racing through him, he slipped a hand into Mac's after grabbing his keys and wallet. "So, shall we go and brunch with 'Major Dad' and 'Harriet'?" Vic asked, tugging Mac out of their bedroom. "But leave the lock picks at home okay?" 

"What makes you think I have them?" Mac asked innocently, tightening his fingers around Vic's and ducking back out of the way when the older man swung around to give him a 'behave' look. "Oh all right," he grumbled, plucking the slim metal rods out of his wallet and setting them on the hallway table. "Happy now?" Vic's answer wasn't quite a smile, but it was probably as close to the expression the other man was going to get today so Mac accepted it in good grace. Besides, he had another set of picks stowed away as back up so leaving the one was no skin off Mac's nose. 

"As for your clothes," Mac continued as Vic locked up the condo and they headed down the hall toward the elevator. "I like your regular ones just fine, especially when you dig out the wild man leather pants, but seeing you dressed up once in a while is a good treat too. 'Course you in nothing at all is my favorite," he concluded as they stepped into the elevator, nodding hello to one of the downstairs neighbors who was taking their dog out for a walk. 

* * *

"So what exactly does your father do, Mackenzie?" Charles Mansfield posed the question as he settled his coffee cup back in the immaculate saucer. Drips and stains dared not attach themselves to the former major and he sneered at those lesser beings whose appearance didn't meet with his dress standards. Standards which included any kind of piercings in a male being highly suspect. 

"He's in international business, runs a multi-national corporation," Mac replied, tossing off the well-rehearsed story with ease and without so much as a glance at his partner. 

"Out of Hong Kong you say?" 

"Yes, that's where the main offices are." 

"I wonder if Charles Jr. knows Mr. Ramsey, dear," Barbara wondered, laying her hand against her husband's sleeve, then smiling at her son and his ward. "He knows a great many businessmen in Hong Kong." 

"What business does he run?" Charles Sr. asked, "perhaps he can send word to your parents if he does know them." 

"The phones work just fine, thank you," Mac replied quickly, "and he travels so much that he usually is the one to call me. I never know where he is from one day to the next." Nudging Vic with his foot under the table, Mac tried to draw his lover out of the semi-funk the older man had fallen into as once again the conversation turned to Charles Jr and his wonderful achievements. 

* * *

"God I though that disaster would never end!" Vic groaned, tugging his tie off as soon as he climbed into the truck, his head falling back on the headrest in relief. "This mean we can get out of Dodge now, partner?" 

"C'mon, Vic, it wasn't that bad." Even as he said that, Mac sighed to himself, knowing that to his lover, it had been. "We made it out alive, that's the important part, right?" 

All through the ride back to the condo, Mac kept up a running series of quips, determined to keep Vic's mind off his idiot parents as much as possible. As soon as they had changed, he dragged the older man out of the apartment and down to the garage, practically throwing Vic on his bike, plopping the helmet on his head before climbing aboard in front of the other man. 

"Hang on tight, Vice-man," Mac grinned, even though he knew that Victor couldn't see his expression through the tinted visor. "We're getting out of here fast." Vic barely had time to tighten his arms around Mac's waist before the teen revved the engine then popped the clutch, sending the motorcycle squealing up the ramp and onto the street. 

An hour's worth of driving found them out in the country, pulled up at a small convenience store to stock up on assorted items for the rest of the afternoon. "Think we have enough?" the younger man asked, eyeing the pile of food and drinks, then glancing over at his lover. Mac knew Vic hadn't eaten much at all during brunch and he was determined to get a decent amount of food into the older man—among other things. 

Vic chuckled softly. "I think we've got enough to last for several days, baby. So where are you kidnapping me to?" he grinned. The further away from Toronto Victor got the more he felt himself relax. Damn, he hadn't felt this tense since ... Vic shook his head, not wanting to remember the dark days between Mac's disappearance and reappearance. 

"Gonna take me to a secluded spot and have your wicked way with me?" he continued to tease, ignoring the shocked looks from the clerk as he kissed the younger man passionately. 

"Eventually," Mac replied, grinning at the clerk, then giving the shocked and somewhat disgusted man a wink as he forked over the money for the groceries. "First you need to eat something, don't want you distracted by a growling stomach while I'm ravishing you." 

Once the groceries were bagged, the two men headed back out to the bike and Mac stowed the bags in the saddlebags. Pulling his helmet back on, he hopped aboard, gunning the engine while Vic climbed astride as well. The older man settled into place and Mac popped the clutch, roaring out of the parking lot and back onto the two-lane road they had been traveling on. 

After another half-hour driving, Mac slowed, looking for a turnoff ahead. Spying an opening through the dense foliage, he eased the motorcycle onto a hard-packed dirt road. The sounds of traffic faded away behind them, and the shadows grew until the road opened up onto a small pond surrounded by a swatch of green meadow and a fringe of sandy beach. 

"How's this?" Mac asked, pulling off his helmet and half turning to look back at his lover. "Far enough away from it all for you?" 

"Perfect, absolutely perfect," Vic sighed happily as he climbed off the bike. First thing he did was grab his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the off button. The beeper was next. No way he was gonna let _her_ interfere today. "You take such good care of me, baby," Vic smiled, pulling Mac in for a soft kiss. "I've been nuts lately, thanks for putting up with me. Thanks for all of this," he continued, rubbing his cheek against Mac's shoulder and inhaling the spicy, clean scent that was Mac. 

Finally, reluctantly releasing the younger man, after long moments of peaceful cuddling, Vic snagged a bag of groceries from the saddlebag and handed it to Mac before grabbing the other one and a blanket. "Think the water is warm enough for skinny dipping later on?" 

"Eh," Mac tried to shrug off his lover's gratitude with a grin and a shrug, "least I could do, you put up with enough shit for me, so me your parents are minor league. Besides, like I mind stealing you away for the afternoon." This was accompanied by an ironic rolling of the eyes and a hand sneaking down to pinch Vic's butt since his lover's hands were full. 

"As for the water, should be plenty warm. If not, we can lounge around on the blanket and tan ourselves silly—in between stuffing your face and fucking ourselves brainless. Sound like a plan to you?" Without waiting for Vic's answer, Mac hefted the bag and strolled down to a spot in the shade of a huge oak, then turned and waited. "You coming or just standing there the rest of the day?" 

Vic closed his mouth with a snap. "Jesus Mac, tell me what you really want," he teased as he ambled down to sit next to the younger man. Deciding to really get into the day, he sprawled backwards with his hands behind his head and smirked up at the ex-thief. 

"So... feed me already. Then fuck me brainless." 

"Greedy," Mac laughed, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the side before unbuttoning Vic's to do the same. "And pushy too, did I ever tell you that?" 

Digging in one of the bags from the store, Mac pulled out a banana and offered it to his lover, eyebrows waggling laviciously. "Here ya go, Vice-man, enjoy." 

Peeling the skin of the fruit, Vic brought the soft, yellow tip to his mouth and then, covering his teeth with his lips he slowly sucked the tip of it in, moaning at the flavor that burst on his tongue, teasing him. Slowly he sucked more and more in, until half the ripe fruit was in his mouth. 

Watching Mac through veiled eyes, Vic then began to suction the fruit in and out of his mouth only to withdraw it and lick his way along the exposed length. Then, as he watched Mac watch him with slack jawed disbelief and soft whimpers of arousal, he bit savagely into the flesh, chewed and swallowed, then moaned his satisfaction. 

"Was it good for you too, baby?" 

"Forget feeding you," the younger man rasped, tearing the banana out of his lover's hand and pouncing on him, claiming a kiss that tasted of banana and Victor and his own desire. "Just want to screw you," he added, tossing aside the rest of his clothes and waiting impatiently for Vic to do the same. 

Vic chuckled and lazily stripped the checked shirt, muscle shirt and jeans off, grinning at Mac's impatient growling and grateful that he'd decided to go commando today. 

"One of these days baby, I wanna fuck and be fucked on that motorcycle of yours—just for the thrill of it," Vic purred as he lay back down on the blanket and waited to see what his frustrated and aroused baby would do next. 

"Bastard!" Mac laughed, jumping on Vic and trying to excavate his lover's tonsils with just his tongue while he rubbed himself all over the older man's body. "Never gonna be able to ride the damn bike with you again without getting hard thinking about that!" Still muttering imprecations, Mac transferred his lips to the tendon running up the side of Vic's neck, sucking, kissing and biting on the skin until a definite purple love mark showed there—one that nothing short of a turtleneck would cover. 

"Am gonna have to jump you in the bed of your truck sooner or later to return the favor. Mmmm... " he continued, sliding lower, nipping at Vic's nipples with sharp teeth, biting just hard enough to get the older man's attention. "How about right in the Agency parking lot where anybody can walk by and see us? God knows it won't be anything that some of 'em haven't seen before." 

Moving lower still, Mac traced the individual lines of Vic's ribs with his tongue, then followed the thin line of hair down to his naval, swabbing the indentation, tickling it with his piercing and collecting the flavor of salt and musk and Vic as he did so. His lover's moans and near silent gasps goaded Mac on as he skipped the proud column of the older man's erection to suction first one, then the other, then both of his balls into his mouth. 

"Jesus Mac!" Vic nearly jumped out of his skin as the younger man teased his balls, feeling that steel ball caress and drive him mad. First the hickey, then the tongue bath and now... 

"Keep this up baby and I'm gonna come," he warned softly, feeling everything begin to tighten as his arousal grew with each delicate lap of his lover's tongue. 

The younger man laughed huskily and slowly pulled back, letting his lover's now damp balls pop out of his mouth leaving his lower lip wet and shiny. "Can't have that, can we?" he asked, crawling back up over Victor and lapping at the hot bruise he had left on the other man's neck. "Not any fun to do that alone, you know that." 

With a smile that was more of a smirk, Mac pulled back again, sitting on his haunches and running his hands over Vic's strong thighs. "Turn over, lover. I want you on your knees." Mac watched through hot, dark eyes as Vic complied, the movements causing his erection to bob and weave in the sunlight, painting a dark shadow across the older man's side and then on the blanket. 

"Mmm," Mac purred, rubbing his face over the warm skin of Victor's ass. "Perfect, just perfect." Grabbing the banana that they had abandoned earlier, the ex-thief trailed the firm fruit between the muscular cheeks of Vic's ass then followed the same path with his tongue, licking away the lingering sweetness. 

Vic groaned and wriggled his ass enticingly, bracing his forearms on the blanket. "Prefer having you there, not some makeshift dildo, baby," the older man chuckled as he pushed his hips backwards in blatant invitation for more. 

"God, Mac, I can't wait to have you in me, then be in you," Vic moaned. The ex-cop was determined not to come; he wanted to be able to ride Mac just like the younger man was about to ride him. But he wasn't sure if he could . . . 

Suddenly moving away from Mac's heated body, Vic snagged his leather jacket and reached into its inside pocket. He'd picked up a little something from a sex store early in the week on a whim and had yet to take it out, thank god. Reaching into the black plastic bag, Vic pulled out a new cock ring, this one with tiny metal protuberances that stood out about a quarter inch from the leather. 

Snapping it on quickly and carefully, Vic returned to his original position with a grin. "All right baby, do your worst!" he smirked, shaking his ass tauntingly. 

A high, whining moan escaped from Mac's lips at the sight of Victor snapping the cock ring around his erection, one that increased in pitch when the older man flashed his gorgeous ass in his face. Grabbing for the lube, Mac squirted some on his hand, then pressed his fingers home into the tight sheath of Vic's ass. 

"God, babe... so fucking tight," the younger man groaned, twisting his fingers and feeling his lover shudder beneath him as he rubbed at his prostate. Pressing a line of kisses up Vic's broad back up to his neck, then worrying the soft skin there, Mac slid a hand around to cup and tease Vic's bound erection, tracing the metal studs before pumping the hot flesh a few times. 

Vic growled at him to get a move on and Mac chuckled, continuing to tease his lover while he slicked up his cock with the hand that had been exploring Vic's body. "What's your hurry, Vice-man?" he laughed, pressing inwards until just the head of his cock breached the tight ring of muscle. "You aren't coming any time soon with that thing on." 

Vic pushed backwards and Mac slid all the way into his lover's body, gasping out a breath as the clinging heat surrounded him. "Fuck, aw fuck, the way you feel." Straightening up and balancing himself with one hand on Vic's hips while the other one continued to play with the ex-cop's shaft, Mac began to move, pressing slowly into and out of his lover's body, watching Vic's back arch and the muscles in his shoulders flex as he worked with him. 

The older man snarled impatiently, wanting to feel Mac harder and faster. Although he adored it when his baby decided to go slow and sweet most times, this wasn't one of them. "Mac, don't make love to me, _fuck_ me dammit!" Vic ordered imperiously, shoving back hard against his lover to demonstrate his desires. 

A tightening of both hands followed the younger man's gasp of shock, the hand on his hip threatening to leave a bruise, something Vic found he actually wanted. Growling softly he began to thrust back harder and harder and soon Mac was slamming into him as he'd so desperately wanted, the wet sounds of the younger man sliding in and out of him, the slapping of their flesh and the rough grunts of passion each man made music to his ears. 

"Yeah, fuck, like.. . . shit MAC!!" Vic wailed and shuddered to dry orgasm as his prostate was speared time and time again. He'd forgotten what this could feel like, it had been so long. "Missed this, god, so fucking much," he whined softly, losing himself in the slap of flesh on flesh and the razor sharp sensations coursing through him. 

The rippling contractions surrounding his shaft made Mac throw back his head and howl. His fingers dug deeper into Vic's hips and he slammed forward, feeling his balls slap against the older man's restrained flesh. The brush of the short studs on the leather around Vic's shaft added a slight edge of pain to Mac's thrusts and sent him over the edge. 

"Jesus—yes!" he shouted, trying to climb into Vic's body as far as possible as his orgasm careened through him, filling the other man with his seed, marking him as owned. "Gonna do me now?" he gasped, rolling off the older man's back to the blanket, his head pillowed on his arms, his ass raised in the air. "Jesus fuck," Vic growled as he was on his lover in an instant, his teeth closing on the soft flesh of the base of Mac's neck even as his fingers groped for the lube. Blindly managing to grab the tube, Vic slicked his fingers, then his cock, then his fingers again and began to work them into the tight breach that beckoned. 

Mac's whines of need goaded him on and as soon as his lover was even passably stretched Vic slid home, sinking into Mac's flesh as easily as a knife scything through hot butter. Once seated deep within the younger man, Vic shakily reached between them and unsnapped the ring, freeing the blood in his erection. 

Between the coursing blood and his lover's still contracting muscles Vic only managed a few deep strokes before he too came hard and deep inside the younger man. Maneuvering himself so that he rolled to his side still imbedded inside Mac, Vic pulled his baby tighter to him. "Oh man, now I'm totally wrecked," he chuckled tiredly before placing a gentle kiss on Mac's shoulder and snuggling into the crook of his neck. 

"Think I know how you feel," Mac sighed, one of his hands drifting back to circle Vic's waist, his internal muscles gently contracting around the older man's softening penis. "I think both of us are gonna be walking funny tonight, especially after the drive back on the bike." 

Vic's groan had the younger man chuckling and he hugged his lover close. "Don't worry, babe, You can sit on that blow up beach ball I bought if you really need the extra padding..." 

* * *

It was two tanned, satisfied and worn out men who rode into the garage of the condo and practically fell off the motorcycle once Mac parked it. "Man, all I want is a shower, a bed and you, preferably in that order," Mac groaned, pulling off his helmet and flashing a grin at Victor. It didn't matter that they'd been after each other the whole time they'd been gone, the drive back—with Vic's cock rubbing up against his ass the whole way - had Mac definitely interested in at least one more round before they collapsed. 

"I think we still have one of those bananas left too if you're interested . . ." he chuckled as they staggered into the elevator, leaning against each other and the back wall, trading sloppy kisses and lazy gropes. The door chimed as it opened again and the two reluctantly pulled apart—to stare into the shocked and horrified faces of Victor's parents. 

Vic looked from the shocked face of his mother to the almost apoplectic one of his father and sighed resignedly. This wasn't gonna be pretty. Straightening his spine, the ex-cop calmly and deliberately pulled Mac in for another kiss, then walked out of the elevator, past his parents, and opened the condo door. 

"If you'd like to come in—I really would prefer not to wake up the neighbors, tonight anyway," he tossed over his shoulder sarcastically, almost enjoying the whole situation now that it was out. 

So his father would disown him, no big deal. The Agency made sure he was well compensated, he had a trust fund from both his grandfather, so money wasn't a big deal. He could live without seeing the old man or Chuck again for a long, long time. 

His mother—well she was a ditz, but he loved her. Not that he could see her cutting him off cold. No, Barbara Mansfield adored her children so he highly doubted he'd ever completely lose touch with the family. 

And Alice, Vic smiled at the thought of his little sister who was happily digging ditches in some African nation with the Youth Corps. There wasn't a chance in hell that she'd ever let dad come between him, and neither would he. 

If you balanced that with his job, and the man he loved, it was a more than fair trade—and one Vic would happily live with. 

"Just one thing. You wanna lay into me, go for it. But if you bring Mac into this in any way, _Father_ , you're gone. He's not part of it and I won't have you taking it out on him. Got it?" 

At that, Mac turned his murderous glare from Vic's parents to his lover. Damn, would the man ever get over his obsessive need to protect him? "Bullshit," he snapped, wrapping an arm around the older man's waist, his stance defiant. "I'm the one you're sleeping with, so I _am_ a goddamn part of this and I'm sure I can take whatever it is the Major has to dish out." 

Charles Mansfield's complexion turned a mottled red and the veins stood out on his neck as his rage grew. "I should have guessed you'd get involved in something like this," he snarled, staring fixedly at his younger son and ignoring the hand his wife placed on his arm. 

"Always the one with the high moral standards, weren't you, Victor? Always attempting to convince me that your brother wasn't what I thought. It seems now that you were. A pedophile. I won't have it! Let me tell you this; you are no son of mine." 

"Charles!" Barbara wailed, tears streaking her perfectly made-up face. "No!" 

As the major took a step toward Victor, his fist raised in threat, Mac pushed in front of his lover. "Go ahead, try it, old man," he taunted, hoping to redirect the other man's anger. "Vic won't hit you, 'cause by some sick twist of fate you're his dad, but that won't stop me." 

"Mac," Vic's hand came up to pull the younger man back gently. "It's okay, really it is." And it was. Vic looked at the man who'd raised him and found that there was only a bone deep pity for him and his prejudices. 

Turning to look at his mother, Vic smiled. "If it helps, Mom, I don't think I knew what happiness really was until Mac barged into my life. I really love him. What I feel for Mac—its forever, Mom. Try and be happy for me, okay?" 

"You know where the door is, Major. Don't expect me to beg for forgiveness because I won't. Live with your prejudices and your illusions, it doesn't affect me in the least. But then again, I've always been a disappointment to you, so what's one more black mark on my less than stellar life as far as you're concerned? 

"You've always made it abundantly clear that I'm less than worthy in your eyes. Luckily for me I found someone who actually thinks I am worth something, someone who loves me despite the fact that I nearly turned out like you. I have everything I need right here and if you want me out of your life, consider it done, but don't expect me to stop talking to Mom or Alice just because you're a bigot. _They_ are still my family, even if you're not." 

Coming to stand next to Mac, Vic wrapped an arm around his lover's waist. "This is Mac's and my home you're not welcome here anymore, Major. Please leave before I have security escort you out," Vic finished coldly, his face stony and set. 

"Don't worry, Victor. The day you see me again will be a cold one in hell. Come along Barbara." Victor's mother shot him a single, pleading, glance, then turned and followed her husband out the door. 

The force that Charles Manfield closed the door with echoed through the apartment like a shot, and Mac stood there a moment, stunned by what had just transpired. "Victor..." he began, turning and looking uncertainly at his lover. Seeing Vic's expression cleared any thoughts of going after the Mansfields from his mind, and he gathered the older man in his arms, holding him close. 

"I'm sorry, Vice-man," he breathed, stroking his hand over Vic's back, wishing he had some clue as to how to fix all this. "I had no idea..." 

"Shh, it's okay, baby. Everything I need, everything I want is right here. I've got you. I don't think I've ever 'had' a father. He was always the Major—and always a prick. Can't miss what you never had and all that," Vic choked, the tears catching him unawares. 

"Sorry, I mean, I should be happy, tossing you over my shoulder and carting off to the bedroom for hot, sweaty celebration sex," he managed to get out. "I guess I just can't... was I such a bad son?" he asked, scrubbing angrily at his eyes. "Am I so hard to love?" 

"No! Jesus, no!" Mac caught Vic's face between his palms, tilting the older man's head so that they were looking into each other's eyes. The pain he saw radiating in Vic's made Mac's heart clench, and he shook his head. "Listen to me, Victor. You are not a bad person or a bad son. Hell, I bet most fathers would consider themselves lucky to claim you as theirs. Well, except for mine maybe, but we know what he did." He grinned a little, trying to coax an answering one out of his lover, then sobering when it didn't work. 

"Look. Considering the Major thinks Chuckie is Mr. Wonderful, I can't say I'm overly impressed with his reading of people. The fact that he can't see beyond his prejudices just confirms that. You _are_ a good man, Victor. The best I've ever known. You give me something to strive for and I'm constantly amazed that I'm lucky enough to have you in my life." 

Mac stroked his fingers across Vic's cheek, his expression serious. "You are loved. By me, by Alice, and, God help you, by the Director even. Never think you aren't, please?" Pulling Vic into his arms again, Mac held the shorter man close, resting his face against his lover's short, dark hair. "How about we go curl up in our bed. It may not be hot, sweaty celebration sex, but I happen to know that I'm in love with an old fashioned guy who seems to like cuddling as much as getting down and dirty and I guess he's worn off on me." 

Vic managed a watery smile and a quiet chuckle. "I _do_ know you love me, Mac. You're my saving grace, you know. Sounds corny but it's true. I love you, babe." Pulling Mac's head down for a quick kiss, Vic tugged at his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. 

"And cuddling sounds fantastic—after all we got incredibly down and dirty this afternoon. I still can't believe you did that thing with the banana! How'd I get so lucky to get a major hottie like you in my bed, hunh? You're gonna either keep me young forever or wear me out before I'm thirty—either way it's one hell of a way to go." 

"Eh, you're just lucky is all," Mac chuckled, doubting that the fall-out from this was over, but relieved that Vic seemed to be responding to him. "As for the banana; I've told you and told you. I was raised to be creative and to know how to improvise when I had to—all hallmarks of a good thief." 

He kicked off his sneakers and tumbled Vic back onto the bed, stripping them both out of their clothes and wrapping his arms around the older man from behind so that they were spooned together. "Think you can get some sleep, or want me to rub your back for you?" he queried softly, kissing Victor's ear and circling his hand over his lover's stomach. 

"I think I'm a very lucky man, indeed. I love you, Mac, more than anything else in my life," Vic replied, his voice suspiciously husky. "You take good care of me, baby." 

Rolling over, Vic stared deep into the younger man's eyes, counting his blessings, so to speak. "You're all the family I'll ever want or need. The only one that matters." 

Mac shook his head before leaning in to kiss Vic tenderly. "No, that's you, never forget it." He stroked a hand over Vic's face, his eyes dark and serious. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, Victor." 

"Well then, I guess it's settled. We're each other's family. Love you baby. So what was this about snuggling and spooning and stuff? I'm game for it, if you are." 

Mac chuckled a bit, and kissed Vic's forehead. "You wanna do that, you gotta turn over." Shifting his hands lower, he helped the other man do just that, then curled closer, wrapping his arms around Vic's waist and resting his head on the older man's shoulder. 

Reaching for the light blanket, he pulled it up over them both, and simply held Victor until Mac felt his lover relax and lean back against him. "That's better..." 

"You take good care of me, Mac Ramsey. Thank you," Vic husked, bringing one of Mac's hands up to his mouth and kissing the center of his lover's palm. "Real good care of me. Just next time, warn me when you're gonna turn a banana into a dildo, okay?" 

"You don't like me being creative?" Mac asked, his tone slightly wounded, but teasing. "Be glad it wasn't a pineapple." 

"Owwwwww," Vic's body clenched and shivered. "Mean, baby, very mean! A pineapple. Next he'll be saying he wants to use me as a sushi plate or something!" 

"Mmm, sounds fun. I'd like to lick sake off of you, but the wasabe might be a little hot on your skin." Mac snickered and rubbed his hand over Vic's stomach, feeling it ripple under his palm. 

"Just no octopus, okay?" Vic sighed, already giving in gracefully simply because he knew he wasn't going to win anyway, and besides it _did_ sound like fun. Slimy fun, but fun. 

Mac stuck his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "It tastes good! And just because you don't like it doesn't mean that it's poisonous or something!" 

He felt Vic's shoulders shake as the older man laughed and closed his teeth on them in retaliation. "Go to sleep, Mansfield, It's been a long day and I think you're getting delusional. You know how you old folks need your rest." 

"Brat," Vic growled, nipping at the younger man's shoulder. "The only one who's delusional around here is you, but I'll humor you yet again." Pulling Mac in tighter, the older man sighed and relaxed into their big, soft bed. "G'night, baby. Love of my life." 

Mac snickered. "Night, Vice-man, get your rest, I'm sure Lady D is going to take this time off out of our hides tomorrow. Love you." He kissed the side of Vic's neck and rested his head on the pillow behind the older man's, feeling Vic relax even more, then finally allowing himself to drift to sleep once he was sure that his lover was deep in his dreams. 

6/4/01 

* * *

Title: The Parent Trap   
Author/pseudonym: Angel and Rina   
Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
Archive: RatB, WWOMB and The Nesting Place, anyone else, just let us know ;)   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed]   
Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby 7   
Other websites: http://the-nesting-place.com/angelandrina.html, http://www.squidge.org../angelrina/angelrina.htm   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!.   
Notes: Another in our AU series featuring recent ex-cop Vic and teen thief Mac ;) Enjoy!   
Summary: Visitors from out of town shed a little light on Victor's past.   
---


	9. VIII: A Pretty Baby Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU alert! What if Victor had met Mac while he was still working Vice and Mac was still a thief?

  
**Part VIII  
A Pretty Baby Christmas **

Vic Mansfield, big, bad ex-cop turned secret Agency man, nearly whimpered with terror as he walked through the main doors to the Eaton Centre and was inundated by a cacophony of noise, light and people—hundreds, if not thousands of people. He nearly turned around and walked back out again. Going shopping two weeks before Christmas was suicide; it was even worse than squaring off against the Director. 

Then Vic remembered his lover, his partner and his best friend. A silly smile crept over his face as he pictured the young man as he'd left him, sprawled out in their bed, exhausted from exam week and battling a cold. He'd been wheezing slightly, and his side of the bed was littered with tissues from a runny nose and lots of blowing. There was Nyquil on the nightstand and orange juice, and Vic had spend a good half hour rubbing Vicks VapoRub into Mac's back and chest before the young man muttered a tired thank you and delivered a sloppy kiss as he passed out. 

Mac was definitely worth a little aggravation and a lot of self-control, so he didn't pull out his gun to clear a path to the store he needed to go to; instead, he braved the Madding crowd and found the quickest route possible to Birks jewelry store. Vic had already bought the majority of his gifts for Mac. He'd got the young man CDs, clothes and an I.O.U for a shopping trip to Priape. He'd even gone to a local body-piercing place and got his baby a variety of tongue studs for his piercing. 

Now he just needed one final gift, one that Mac couldn't know about until Christmas morning. Actually, it really wasn't that bad: Vic had ordered the ring months ago; all he had to do was pick it up since it had finally come in. He knew it was kinda corny, but Vic couldn't help himself. He and Mac had been through so much and survived it all. They'd survived their hellish introduction, the Director and a myriad of cases their job threw at them, and they were still together and still in love. It was as much of a sign as Vic could ever hope to get that this was forever. 

"Ah, Mr. Mansfield. You've come to pick up the ring, I see," the manager smiled as he saw Vic finally burst through the crowds and into the peaceful haven of the upscale store. "Please come into my office; I have it in the safe. You can have some coffee and relax." 

In short order Vic was ensconced in a comfortable wingback, coffee in hand and a delicate shortbread cookie imported right from Scotland on a plate next to him. The manager was opening the dial safe, and Vic couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Mac would have been in that thing in less time than the stuffed shirt, and the stuffed shirt _knew_ the combination. Who said loving Mac Ramsey would ever be dull? 

The manager finally got the safe open and brought out the black velvet box. "I hope this meets your approval, Mr. Mansfield, and may I say you have exquisite taste. Whomever this ring is for is a very lucky person." 

Well, the guy was discreet, Vic would give him that. It was obvious from the size of the ring that it wasn't for a woman, but no comments were made, and everything was kept civilized. Guess money really did talk. 

Popping open the case, Vic examined the platinum and tanzanite claddaugh ring with a critical eye. He smiled appreciatively then snapped the jewelry box shut. "It's perfect. Thanks." 

"It was our pleasure Mr. Mansfield." 

* * *

December 20 

"Baby please come home. Baby, please—" 

Mac turned the key in the ignition, cutting Bono off in mid-note, then continued humming the song to himself as he climbed out of the car, popping the trunk as he did so. The Mazda wasn't as much fun to drive as his bike, but given the weather, it was a necessity. Grabbing the bags from the trunk, he slammed the hatch, then hit the alarm button, still humming as he headed up the elevator to the condo. 

Vic's truck wasn't in its space, which meant that he had some time to sort through this stuff and get it wrapped before the older man got home. Mac didn't think that Vic would stoop to snooping through the condo for his gifts, but just in case, he was making them unrecognizable. 

After locking the door behind him, Mac set his packages down on the dining room table, then hit the remote that turned on the Christmas tree lights. A small smile quirked the former thief's lips as he looked at the reflection of the multi-colored lights in the windows. Christmas had never really been a special day to him; when he'd been with his father, it had been a good day to fleece the bleeding hearts, and with the Tangs, it hadn't been important. 

Last year, he'd spent the day curled up in a rat-hole of a hotel, sleeping off the effects of too much partying, but now—now he was surrounded by tinsel, lights and trappings and loving every minute of it. Who would have thought that Victor's middle-class values would have worn off on him like this, not that Mac was complaining. Now that he was feeling better, he'd cheerfully braved the holiday crowds in search of the perfect gifts for his lover. 

The antique emerald earring was perfect, and its color reminded Mac of Vic's eyes. The half-carat emerald-cut stone was set in weathered silver, but the jeweler had assured him that the setting was sound. That had been easy; the other gifts had required more thought, and Mac had been at his wits' end until the Director pulled a few strings and helped him get the tickets he'd been trying to find. 

Mac patted his pocket, and grinned. Three days of the finest jazz and blues artists the world had to offer, and a trip to Monterey, California to boot. He wasn't going to think of what he owed Lady D for this one, but whatever she came up with, the expression on Vic's face when he saw the line-up was going to be worth it. 

Spilling the wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows he'd bought onto the table, Mac turned on the stereo and got to work, wrapping his purchases with a concentration so fierce that he didn't hear the lock turn in the door. 

"Hey, Vic—" he stopped, yelled, then whirled around to block the older man's view. "Out, out, out! I'll tell you when you can come in!" 

After giving his lover the bum's rush out the door, Mac raced around the condo, pushing boxes into shopping bags and hiding them in the extra closet. Vic stood in the hallway for a good long moment then burst out laughing. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks and he had to lean against the wall for support. Oh God, Mac's face—the way he'd scrambled around like the proverbial headless chicken to hide his purchases and prevent Vic from seeing. His cool as ice baby acting like, well, like he would. It had to be love! 

The elevator door pinged open, discharging Misses Robbins and Young, their next-door neighbors, who caught one look at Vic and began to laugh themselves. Grabbing the nearest lady, Vic spun her around and planted a kiss on her cheek, holding the sprig of mistletoe he'd just purchased over her head as Mac, panting from exertion, opened the door to let him back in. 

"Okay, you can come in now." 

Tweaking the younger man's nose as he walked by, Vic shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his boots then picked up the greenery again. Twirling it above his head he took in the gorgeous man in front of him. 

Crooking his finger, Vic smiled at his baby. "You know what mistletoe means, don't you, babe? Come give 'daddy' a kiss," he teased with a sardonic quirk of an eyebrow. "I double dog dare ya!" 

Still trying to recover from his scare, Mac watched blankly as Vic played with the little sprig of plant-life again. Plucking the twig from the older man's hand, Mac stared at it for a moment, then eyed his lover. 

"This some new kind of herb for your cooking or something you've been smoking?" he asked, looking for all the world like he had no idea at all what Vic was talking about. He handed the sprig of greenery back to Victor, then, before the other man's expression could fall too much, swooped in and kissed him hard, breathing in the chill air that still clung to his hair. 

"Just tell me that you weren't carrying that around work, okay?" he begged, squirming at the thought of what the Director would do if she saw Victor carrying around the ancient symbol of fertility. 

Vic made a retching noise before sweeping Mac back in a movie classic ravishment pose. "Only for you do I wear silly green plants, babe; after all, there isn't anyone else I'd even consider kissing—especially at work!" he grinned. Bending over, he returned Mac's earlier kiss before sweeping him back up. 

"Work's done. The Dragon Lady, in a moment of unusual good humor, did a very Christmassy thing and released us all from our enslavement—I mean work— until the New Year. Actually Jacks says that Lady D's taken the Agency jet and headed some place warm and tropical. Whatever the reason, we're free until the second." 

Heading into the kitchen, Vic poured himself a glass of eggnog and then seasoned it with a little spiced rum. "Hey, babe, how would you feel about inviting the other inmates of our cell block over for a little Christmas cheer, say on the 23rd or so?" 

Walking back into the living room, Vic stretched out on the sofa and, setting his glass down first, pulled his lover onto his lap to nuzzle Mac's throat seductively. "Whaddya say, baby? Shall we show them a gay man's version of the Cleavers' Christmas?" 

Mac snuggled back against Vic's chest, chuckling, as he snagged the tumbler of eggnog and took a sip. "I'd say that was do-able," he murmured, arching his neck and squirming against the growing bulge in Vic's jeans. "As long as you promise not to wear an apron like the mom did." 

He grinned and turned his face to nip Vic's ear. " _And_ if you're the one to ask Dobie and Nathan. I know how much you love both of them." 

Snatching the eggnog back, Vic downed it in gulp, deciding he needed the liquid courage. Him and his brilliant ideas! "Fine, but you can invite Jacks and the Dragonlady if she's still around," he groused even as his hand slid up underneath Mac's sweater to caress his taut stomach. "Enough talk about the party, we can deal with it tomorrow. I have a sudden yen to pretend to be Santa and watch you play with my north pole," Vic sniggered, hands moving to undo Mac's Gap khakis. 

"Thought you just said she went island-hopping..." Mac chuckled, the sound turning into a throaty purr as Vic's hands slid under his pants and rubbed over his growing erection. 

"Mmm, don't I get to tell you what I want for Christmas first, Santa?" he chuckled, imagining Victor dressed up in a red fur outfit, complete with curly white beard and wig, and rosy red cheeks. Pulling Vic's hand out of his pants, Mac swung around on his lover's lap so that he could look the older man in the eyes. Rubbing his crotch against Vic's, he leaned in, and brushed a kiss over his partner's lips. "You think I've been a good enough boy to get what I want?" 

"Oh, I think you've been naughty, young Mackenzie, very, very naughty. So tell Santa what you want for Christmas, baby." 

Vic quickly stripped his plaid shirt off and began to unbutton the top few buttons of Mac's Henley, pulling it over the younger man's head enough to pin his arms and give Vic full access to his lover's nipples. Bending, he rasped his tongue across them, teasing the whorls of hair that got in his way. "Mmmm—much better than milk and cookies, if I do say so. I am, however, looking forward to some fresh 'cream'," Vic sniggered. 

"My goodness, Santa," the younger man murmured, wriggling out of his shirt and running his hands through Vic's hair, "I never knew you were a dirty old man. It gives me a whole new appreciation for the season now." 

Feeling Vic's teeth close around a nipple in response to that, Mac tugged at his lover's hair until Vic looked up at him, then leaned in closer. "Want me to get my list out? Or maybe I can just recite it from memory." He inched closer, pulling Vic's body against his and nuzzling the older man's face. 

"I want you. I want to be in you, under you, over you, you in me, behind, in front of, next to. You're all I want, Vice-man, and all I need, forever." 

Moaning, Vic felt blindly under the couch, looking for the tube of lubricant they normally kept stuffed underneath. "That list," he panted as he nipped the firm button in his mouth then laved the sting away with his tongue, "can definitely be filled." 

His hand finally latched onto the slippery tube, and as he pulled it out, he swung himself up and off the couch, Mac still in his arms. Walking over to the Christmas tree, he laid the younger man on the floor then stood for long moments admiring Mac beneath the lights of the tree. "You're gorgeous. I love you, baby," Vic smiled as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. 

"Bad puns aside, sweetheart, I want our first Christmas to be memorable. Call me a romantic old fool, but I do. And the idea of you spread naked and glistening under the lights while the snow falls outside and a fire burns and carols are playing, damn, it satisfies the romance _and_ the burning need to be buried so deep inside you that I'll never find my way out," Vic continued, blushing slightly. 

Lying down next to the younger man, Vic made quick work of Mac's clothes then snuggled up next to his lover. "So, what does my little man want for his first 'present'," Vic teased running a hand along Mac's lean flank to trail up and down the younger man's cock lightly. 

Mac had pushed up on his elbows, ready to pull Vic in for another kiss, when the other man's words stopped him cold. "Little man?" he asked, biting his lip to keep from snickering. 

"Victor, can I remind you that this 'little man' is three inches taller than you? Little man..." He gave in to his laughter and collapsed back on the carpeting under the tree, holding his sides when they started hurting. 

"Guess that means you don't want the present I got for you, hmmm?" Vic eyed the younger man as he pulled out his pre-Christmas gift. Unwrapping the box, he held up a mammoth candy cane for his lover. "All for you, baby, in a manner of speaking," Vic grinned lasciviously. 

The teen's eyes widened as far as possible, and he started scooting backwards away from his lover. "Umm, just what are you thinking of doing with that thing, Victor?" 

"Trust me, love. You know I'd never do anything that wouldn't bring you pleasure, don't you?" Vic soothed before crawling between Mac's legs once more. "Relax, baby, close your eyes. Let me take care of you," Vic purred as he set the treat aside. 

Smiling as Mac nervously closed his eyes, Vic slithered down his lover until the younger man's erection bobbed before his eyes. "So pretty," Vic husked as he kissed its rosy tip, lapping the salty sweet precum that glistened. Swallowing the younger man's cock, Vic snapped open the lid of the lube and slicked two fingers even as he continued to use Mac's cock as a sort of reverse pacifier, soothing and pleasuring his baby. 

Swirling the now greasy fingers around the tiny pucker to Mac's body, he worked at loosening and relaxing Mac, preparing him for the evil that Vic envisioned. Damn, he'd have to get the Director to give him a copy of the tape. Maybe she'd consider it a belated Christmas present, he thought to himself. The visions dancing in his head were making him combustible. 

The rocking of Mac's hips and the tiny whimpers and mews of need that were coming from his parted lips let Vic know that his lover was beyond thought, was totally needy. Removing his fingers, Vic picked up the two-inch-thick candy cane and squirted some lube on it then, lifting his head from his lover's cock so he could watch, slid the candy stick inside his baby. 

"Oh sweet Jesus," Vic gasped as electric need scorched him. Mac lay impaled on a candy cane, of all things, writhing and moaning as the sweet Christmas treat fucked him. Vic's hand flew to his cock, and he began to pump hard and fast; he was so turned on he was ready to burst. "Oh Mac, if you had any idea of how you look, oh my baby, my pretty, pretty baby," Vic growled, eyes gone black with heat. 

"Vi—oh shit—God—there—don't believe—you..." Unable to form a coherent thought let alone a complete sentence, Mac squirmed, caught between Victor's blazing eyes and the makeshift dildo that was filling him. The peppermint oil worked through the lube, sending his body into new contortions as the cool burn permeated his ass, spreading up to his balls where the stick brushed occasionally. 

Reaching frantically for his own cock, brought from simple arousal to the bone-jarring need to come in a manner of seconds, Mac traded words for guttural moans as he jacked himself off. His hips arched against the sweet pressure filling him, and Mac howled as the peppermint brushed his prostate. Tightening his hand, stroking roughly, his hand moving in time with Vic's almost brutal strokes of his own flesh, Mac wailed his lover's name. His body clenched, and he arched up off the carpeting, his back bowing as his come spurted out over his belly, a few droplets landing in his chest hair and glistening in the multi-colored lights on the tree. 

"Victor!" The older man's name was a raspy cry as Mac reached blindly for Vic, his free hand twining with his lover's and stroking him to completion even as his own body shuddered from his orgasm. 

Vic's body jerked as he bellowed out his climax, both his and Mac's hands milking him to completion. Collapsing on his lover's body, he pulled the candy cane out and, bringing it to his lips even as Mac watched, licked it clean. 

Dropping the cane next to them, he turned to lick his cream off the younger man's stomach and through the chest hair to sugar sweet nipples. "Mmm, delicious baby. So did you like your Christmas present, my love?" 

Mac lay there for a moment, still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, spent. Once he could move again, he smiled, lifting a hand to stroke Vic's cheek, tickling the small hoop in his ear with his pinkie. 

"Is that all I get?" he asked, trying to pout but failing miserably at it. "Or is this a twelve days of Christmas thing. You know—on the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a boffing under the tree." 

Vic groaned and shook his head. "And you said my puns were bad?" he chortled before nuzzling his lover's neck gently. "You'll have to wait for Christmas morning for the rest, baby. I have to keep a few surprises for you." 

Rolling them over, Vic reluctantly let himself push off of Mac's delicious body and drew the younger man to his feet. "Come to bed, Mac. I want to cuddle under the covers and watch the snow fall outside. This Christmas is making me kinda corny, I guess, but I've never had one as perfect as this before." 

* * *

December 25th, morning 

A flurry of paper and tissue littered the floor as all the smaller presents lay around the two men. There were even gifts from Alice and Vic's mother as well as, God help them, the Director. Vic's eyes strayed nervously towards the last gift he had for Mac, the one he'd hidden between the branches of their tree. _Now or never, Mansfield,_ he ordered himself as he stood to retrieve the last gift. 

Taking the black velvet box from its hiding place, Vic took one of Mac's hands and placed the box in it then waited impatiently for the younger man to open it. 

Feeling somewhat silly as he knew he'd been acting like a fool over each gift but not caring in the least, Mac eyed the jewelry box before raising his eyes to meet his lover's gaze. "Been ripping off the stores again, Vice-man?" he teased gently before reaching under the sofa and pulling out the hand-sized, rectangular box that held Vic's last present as well. 

"Guess we should do this at the same time," he continued, trying to sound nonchalant but failing utterly in the effort. Truth be told, Mac had gotten just as much excitement out of watching Vic's reaction to his gifts as from opening his own, and he somehow knew that, sooner or later, Vic was going to tease him about it. 

Waiting until Victor had carefully unwrapped the silver wrapping paper from around his gift to open his own box, Mac peered in at the heavy ring nestled on the lush black velvet. His time as a jewel thief made appraising the band and its stone an easy task, but it was the implications of the design that stole his breath away. 

Carefully lifting the ring from the box, Mac stared at it, running a finger gently over the hands, crown and the carved gemstone heart. The sound of Victor opening his own box drew the former thief's attention, and he wrenched his gaze away from his gift to see Vic's reaction to his present, though his fingers closed tightly around the platinum band as if he was fearful it would vanish when he looked away from it. 

"Mac, what, how?" Vic grinned up at his lover happily as he slid the shades on his face. "You're taking me to the Monterey Jazz festival, oh baby, that's..." 

Vic's eyes darkened as he peeled off the glasses to look at the way Mac was holding the ring, and he dropped the box to move over to his lover. Taking the ring out of Mac's clenched fingers, Vic slid it on the younger man's left ring finger. "I heard about this law they just passed in Holland. It lets same sex couples marry legally. I know it won't hold up here in Canada. but maybe when you graduate... you'd like to take a trip?" Vic murmured, ducking his head self-consciously and praying to whatever gods existed that he wasn't making a complete ass out of himself. 

"You—" Mac was unable to say anything else, though his gaze bounced from Vic to the ring, then back again. "V-Victor, you're saying you..." 

The fact that he couldn't see Vic's face was driving the young man nuts, and he lifted his right hand to tilt his lover's face up and into the light. Smiling a bit tremulously, realizing that this was another bit of uncharted territory they were exploring together, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I'd like to take that trip a lot." 

Pushing up onto his knees, Mac cradled Vic's face between his palms, staring into his eyes. "I love you, Victor Mansfield. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, nothing will ever change that, but this..." he rubbed his thumb over the wide band, then bit his lower lip. "Wow." 

"I love you too, Mac Ramsey. Marry me?" Vic finally managed to get out. Relief flooded through him, and his heartbeat was so fast he thought he'd pass out. "I want you mine as legally as I can get you. I want to be yours too. I love you so much, baby. You've given me a life I can be proud of, one I want to share. I..." At a loss for words to describe all that he was feeling, he took his lover's hand, the one now wearing the ring, and pressed it against his heart. "You live here. Always." 

"Victor..." Mac's throat clenched, and he fought the urge to swipe at his eyes, instead, blinking furiously to clear them. "You..." His fingers clenched, pressing against the solid warmth of Vic's chest. 

"You are such a dork, but God, I love you." Pulling Vic close again, Mac kissed him, gently pressing their lips together, the kiss almost solemn, and a promise of what was to come. 

The End 

_Merry Xmas everybody!!! May santa be as good to you as he was to our boys!_

Angel & Rina~ 

* * *

Title: A Pretty Baby Christmas   
Author/pseudonym: Angel and Rina   
Fandom: Once A Thief   
Pairing: Vic/Mac   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
Archive: RatB, WWOMB, The Nesting Place, anyone else, just let us know!   
E-mail address for feedback: [email removed] Series/Sequel: Pretty Baby,   
Other websites: http://thesleepydragon.com/nesting/main.html   
Disclaimers: The names belong to Alliance but they did evil bad nasty stuff to the boys (blowing them to smithereens no less!) so we decided it was our turn!!!   
Notes: The stores mentioned in this actually do exist—as did the crowds; I know, I was there. ::whimper:: —Angel   
Summary: Just what the title says   
PS. We know it's been a while but RL (and multiple fandoms) kinda caught up with us. But we haven't forgotten our boys, not by a long shot!   
December 10th   
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